


For the Rest of Mine

by Little_Cinch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, D/s elements, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:03:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7178798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Cinch/pseuds/Little_Cinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accidental confession from Cas forces Dean to see the angel in a new light. Rating for language and smut. Destiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **This image is the inspiration for the fic - presumably from Tumblr. I think Halohunter89 sent it to me originally, I don't know. But when I first saw it, I went all kinds of squishy-gooey.**
> 
>   **It takes place in a magical time frame that doesn't actually exist in the show. Kind of vaguely season five-ish (pre-pizza man, for the record). Cas has Fallen, but still has his wings. No one's possessed or dead or crazy or conspiring with the King of Hell. Also, for the record, Jimmy's not home. He went on to Heaven after Raphael vaporized his vessel. Because ick.**
> 
>    
>  **This is my mental theme song for this fic, as well:["Gone, Gone, Gone" by Phillip Phillips](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GV2yMnzWkkc). This lyric video was posted by CoolMusicLyrics01. Neither the song nor video belong to me.**
> 
> **Rating for language and (eventual) smut.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me.**

# For the Rest of Mine

## Chapter 1

Thank the God he didn't believe in that Sam was out food shopping when the freakin' bomb dropped. Their human weakness of needing food (And beer. Lots and lots of beer) would keep what was already awkward and embarrassing from being downright mortifying.

Dean still wasn't sure how they'd gotten here. He and Cas had been bickering, then the bickering turned to arguing, he'd opened his big, stupid mouth, and then it all went screeching sideways down the fucking rabbit hole.

Speechless, he gawked at Cas, trying to process the words he thought he'd just heard. Surely he'd misunderstood, or Cas was making some colossal social blunder or a twisted joke. But when he looked up to find that familiar blue glare fixed on him so intently, he knew he hadn't misheard anything. There was no mistake.

“ _Aw, gee, Cas! Did I hurt your widdle feeeelings? Oh, what – now you're mad?” Dean's voice had oozed sarcasm. “And here I thought you were gonna love me for the rest of my life.”_

“ _No, Dean!” Cas had bored into Dean's skull with his laser-focused glare. “I will love you for the rest of mine.”_

What?

Just... _What?_

What was he supposed to do with that? And what the everloving fuck had possessed him to say that to Cas in the first place? Sure, Dean didn't usually have much of a filter between his brain and his mouth, but seriously, where did that even _come_ from?

Meanwhile, he still stood stupidly next to his shitty motel bed with his beer halfway to his slack jawed mouth.

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, apparently loved him. Him. Dean Freakin' Winchester.

For the rest of the angel's life.

What the hell?

Whoa, weren't angels effectively immortal? Shit, it was one thing for a human to proclaim their love would last forever. It was quite another when the being in love would _actually_ live forever. And  quite another thing still when the object of that love was _him_. He sucked in a sudden breath, his body having forgotten to do so as he stared at the angel across the room.

“Cas?” he asked weakly. Dean wanted to blame the swimming in his head on the alcohol, but he hadn't drunk that much. Yet. _Holy shit. Holyshit holyshit holyfuckingshit._

A hint of uncertainty slipped into Cas's expression and the fierce gaze faltered. “You were not being literal. I've upset you. My apologies. I'll...go now.”

“Wait!”

Cas froze where he stood, eyeing Dean cautiously and looking for all the world like he'd wing off to Jupiter at the first hint of anger.

But Dean wasn't angry, he was _floored_. And he had no friggin' clue what the hell to say now that he'd told the angel to stay. Did he want him to stay? He must, or he wouldn't have blurted it out like that. Right?

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment before Dean finally asked hoarsely, “What you just said. What did you mean?”

Cas's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you mean, what did I mean?”

“It ain't a trick question, Cas, Jesus!”

At Dean's sharp answer, the angel's body tensed again, as though his invisible wings had primed to take flight.

“Whoa!” Dean quickly brought up his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, wait! Wait a minute.” He set his beer on the nightstand and took a deep breath, rubbing his hands over his face. He made a conscious effort to relax, hoping that might smooth Cas's obviously ruffled feathers. And maybe his own rattled nerves.

The tension in Cas's shoulders eased a tiny bit, but he was still giving Dean the side eye.

“Just tell me what you meant, man. Why did you say that?” Dean kept his voice low and even, trying to sound calm in spite of his churning stomach.

“Because... Because you needed to understand that my caring for you will not end after your death.”

Dean jabbed a finger in Cas's direction. “No. Nuh-uh, that's not what you said.”

“Yes, it is,” Cas insisted as his eyes darted around the room, like he didn't already have a built-in means of escape and was looking for a new one.

Dean took a breath to argue, but then held it. Did he really want to push this? If he backed off now, they could pretend it never happened.

Pfft. Yeah, right – and angels might fly out of his butt. Dean was the king of ignoring things he didn't want to think about, but this? There was no ignoring this.

“Yeah, okay, fine,” he conceded. “It's kind of what you said, but that's not what I meant, and you know it.”

There was another fragile moment where Dean expected Cas to vanish in a whoosh of air, but he didn't. Instead he answered stiffly, “I said... that I would love you for the rest of _my_ life, not just the rest of yours.”

Dean hoped his nervous chuckle didn't sound as sickly as it felt. “Okay, so this is what? Brotherly love, right? Like how I feel about Sam?”

Cas just stared at him like a deer in a spotlight.

Dean's face flushed hot and his mouth went dry. “Something else?”

“Something else, yes. Something...” His head tilted as he studied Dean. “...more.”

_Holy fucking shit. Fuckfuckfuckfuuuuuck._

Dean snatched up his beer and gulped the rest of it down. He was simply not equipped for this conversation. Way deep down, he had to admit that it shouldn't be a complete surprise – at least, he'd always known the two of them shared something unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Profound bond, Cas had called it. Sammy had given him so much shit for that one, and Dean had blown it off at the time. But it was true, even if he didn't know exactly what it meant.

But talking about it? Out loud? With Cas? Fuck.

He cleared his throat, but before he could come up with something to say, Cas spoke up.

“Dean,” he began, his gravel truck voice doing strange things to Dean's insides. Had Cas always sounded like that? His voice was rough and broken like he'd been having wild, screaming, animal sex all night long.

Dean closed his eyes tight to squeeze that thought right out of his head. Goddammit, he wasn't going to survive this little talk.

Cas continued, oblivious to the effect his freakin' sex voice was having on Dean. “I apologize for making you uncomfortable. That was never my intention. Perhaps you would prefer it if this conversation never happened?”

“What? No!” Dean blurted out. “Uh, why? Is that what _you_ want? Pretend like nothing's changed?”

“Pretending wouldn't be necessary.” Cas shifted, looking uncomfortable. “If you wish, I could alter your memories.”

Dean's gut twisted. “Hell no!” He realized with a sudden shock that he _really_ didn't want things to go back the way they were. He had no clue what was happening right now, but he didn't want to go back. “Don't you dare go mucking around in my head.”

“Then you _do_ wish to pretend..?”

“Well, no--”

“Because there's no reason for anything to change between us.” Cas's eyes flicked up briefly to catch his gaze, then dropped back to the ugly brown carpet. “Unless you want it to.”

Unless Dean wanted things to change.

He fumbled that around in his brain for a second. Holy crap, did that mean what it sounded like? And if it did, was Cas asking him if--

“Uhhhh.”

All the insane thoughts that suddenly flickered through his mind were accompanied by arousal pooling in his gut. What the fuck? What was happening right now? And was the heater in this dump broken? Because it had gotten _way_ too warm in here.

He really needed another beer. Or six. And damn, it was hot! He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple and under his collar.

Dean edged his way around the room to the mini-fridge and leaned down to open it up. Well, crap. There was only one more goddamn beer. He grabbed it and turned around to discover Cas all up in his personal bubble, his face just inches away.

“Shit!” Dean yelped, nearly dropping his last precious beer. “Dammit, Cas!”

But Cas didn't back off. Instead he gently removed the bottle from Dean's hand and placed it on the counter behind him.

“Cas? What are you doing?”

Deep blue eyes burned as they searched Dean's face, adding to the already unbearable heat in the room. Dean was suddenly struck with déjà vu, the intense regard taking him back to that dilapidated old barn and Castiel, scary as fuck Angel of the Lord, asking him what was the matter. Fear thrilled through him, much as it had then, but it was a whole different kind of fear now.

“Cas?” Fuck. Had his voice just cracked like a fucking teenager's?

“Dean.”

Hearing his name spoken from Cas's lips like a prayer soaked in sex made Dean literally go weak in the knees. He hadn't even known that was a real thing that could happen. And even as his legs went rubbery, his cock was growing hard, eager and raring to go. And Jesus, did he just whimper?

“Dean. Tell me what you want.”

“What?” he asked faintly.

Cas tilted his head slightly and stared into Dean's soul. “Our relationship is at a pivotal point. You know how I feel about you, yet you don't want that knowledge erased. So tell me what you want from me, Dean.”

“Relationship?” Dean echoed. His brain wasn't working right. Arousal and confusion warred with each other as he tried to understand what Cas was asking.

“What happens next is up to you. I love you, Dean, and I wish to be with you in whatever capacity you're willing to accept. Tell me what you want from me.”

Dean felt panic starting to flicker at the edges of his mind. “I-- I don't--”

Cas cocked his head, eyes unfocused, as though listening to something Dean couldn't hear. Then he blinked and leaned even closer. Dean's heart raced and his cock throbbed insistently, but Cas didn't kiss him like he expected. Instead, Dean felt something brush against his side from his cheek to his torso and right down to his knee, whisper soft on his skin – as if his clothes weren't even there. He shivered and a noise escaped him, sounding embarrassingly like another whimper.

“What do you want? Think about it,” Cas rumbled.

And then he was gone.

The motel room door flew open with a bang and Sam barged in, arms loaded down with plastic bags full of takeout, snack food, and beer. “Hey, grab some of these, will you?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” Dean stuttered, then flushed as he realized he was sporting a raging boner. He snatched up two of the bags and quickly turned his back, stuffing the precious, precious beer into the fridge. He picked up the bottle Cas had taken from him before, opened it up, and downed half of it.

He sneaked a peek over his shoulder. Sam was facing away, pulling chips and nuts from the bags he'd dropped on the bed nearest the door, so Dean took the chance to slide into one of the chairs at the table, adjusting the crotch of his pants as he went. It was still a million degrees in here, but he couldn't do anything about the sweat or flushed face except hope that Sam wouldn't notice.

Sam turned to set the bag full of takeout boxes on the table along with one set of disposable chopsticks, a plastic fork, and a pile of paper napkins. “Dig in,” he said, folding his giant legs to settle into the opposite chair. “Hey! You didn't get me a beer, too?”

Dean wrapped a protective hand around the bottle in front of him. “What? Get your own, bitch!”

“Dude, I went out for the food,” Sam complained, but he levered himself up anyway to fetch his own beer.

“Crybaby.”

They ate in silence. Sam destroyed several containers of Chinese, while Dean picked at his. All his attention was on the food in front of him, focusing on getting it from the box to the fork to his face. If he didn't, he was afraid everything spinning around in his head would all come tumbling out of his mouth. Even so, he was having a hard time choking the food down.

“Dean! Are you even listening to me?” Sam asked.

“Huh? Yeah. 'Course I am.”

“So you'll take care of that tomorrow while I hit the library? I'm almost positive this is a Woman in White, but I need to confirm it, and the local paper doesn't have online archives.”

Dean watched Sam talking at him, but the words weren't really registering. He nodded agreeably. “Right. Sure.”

Sam jammed his chopsticks sharply into his sweet and sour pork and sat back in his chair, bitch face in full effect. “Dean, what's going on with you tonight?”

“Nothing!”

“Did something happen while I was out?”

“No! I mean-- I have no idea what you're talking about.” Dean sulked as he shoveled his chow mein from one side of the box to the other and back again, picking out the nasty-ass water chestnuts.

“Sure you don't.”

Dean scowled. “Sarcastic much?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “For crying out loud, Dean, you're all kinds of skittish, you're obviously not focused on the case, and you're not eating! Something's up. So what gives?”

Dropping the takeout box onto the table, Dean stood, relieved that his focus on food had mostly taken care of his boner problem. Mostly. “Maybe I'm not hungry, Sam. Ever think of that? Jesus! Goddamn third degree.” Grabbing his duffel bag, he headed for the bathroom. “I'm gonna go shower.”

“Dean...”

But Dean tossed his bag to the floor in the middle of the tiny bathroom and slammed the door behind him. Leaning against it, he dropped his head back with a thunk and heaved a sigh. Maybe he actually would take a shower. Maybe it would help him get his head on straight.

He turned the water on to warm up, then put his hands on either side of the chipped sink and studied his reflection in the mirror, but it was just his same old face looking back. How the hell could an _angel_ love him?

Holy shit. That had really, actually happened.

Castiel had said he loved him. Cas – his best friend other than Sam – loved him.

It was so damned overwhelming, he had no idea what to think, what to feel. Cas had referred to their 'relationship' being at a turning point. Did he mean, like, _relationship_ relationship?

Panic edged in at the thought. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.

Maybe that's not what Cas had meant. What was love to an angel, anyway? Friendship? Devotion? Maybe it was something Dean couldn't even guess at – some kind of mystical mind meld or some damn thing. Maybe it didn't have anything at all to do with sex.

Oh shit.

He thought it. He didn't mean to think it.

Squeezing his eyes tight, he tried forcing the images out, but it was too late.

_Cas shoving him up against a wall. His stubble rough against Dean's skin as he pressed open mouthed kisses all along his throat and bit down at the tendon just below his ear. That fucking sex voice moaning his name as his fingers trailed down--_

Oh god! Fuck! Dammit!

Heat sparked in his veins, blood rushing to fill his cock again, hot and hard.

Dammit, this wasn't supposed to happen! He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of arousal. This was too fucked up. He had no business thinking of Castiel that way – it wasn't right. He was an angel, for fuck's sake! Cas said he loved him, nothing more. He palmed the front of his jeans and pressed hard, unsuccessfully willing his dick to soften.

Looking back up, he realized the shower had long since heated and the mirror was completely fogged over. He stripped off his boots and clothes and stepped under the not-quite-scalding spray. Taking a fortifying breath and holding it, he put a hand on the shower handle, prepared to douse himself in the coldest water he could get. But then he paused. Sure, a cold shower would temporarily cool him off, but for what – fifteen minutes? Then he'd be right back to horny as hell and thinking inappropriate things about Cas.

Like that invisible caress Cas had given him right before he disappeared. Dean's fingers flexed against his thigh, remembering that gentle touch. How had he done it? He'd felt the touch, even beneath his clothes, directly against his skin. Oh fuck, could Cas do that any time he wanted? Touch him anywhere?

Dean suppressed a groan. His dick gave an urgent twitch, and he finally gave in, wrapping a hand firmly around his eager erection. He shuddered, realizing that this _really_ wasn't going to take long.

He grabbed some hair conditioner, squirting a little into his palm to serve as lube. Leaning to rest a forearm on the shower wall, he slicked his cock and fell into a familiar rhythm. If he could just come once, quick and hard, he could clear his head and stop thinking all this crazy shit about Cas.

_Like Cas gripping Dean's hair tight in his fist, dragging his head back so he could suck bruises onto Dean's neck, his chest._

Fuck! No!

His rhythm faltered as he shook himself out of the fantasy. Anything but Cas. Busty Asian Beauties July centerfold. Jennifer Lawrence. Jessica Rabbit. That waitress at that pie place two weeks ago. Dr. Sexy. _Anything_ but Cas!

_Cas pushing him down, rutting his erection against Dean's thigh, stroking Dean through his jeans. Cas dragging him into a bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth and hot breath. Cas tearing Dean's pants open and dropping down to take Dean's cock into his gorgeous mouth and suck him down hard._

“Ah, _fuuuck!_ ” Dean groaned. Just the thought of releasing deep in Cas's throat sent him into spasms of white hot pleasure, his cock surging in his hand as he came. He leaned heavily against the wall to keep his balance, gasping as he finally stuttered to a stop.

When he eventually opened his eyes, jizz liberally coated his fist, and shame flooded the rest of him. What was _wrong_ with him? Jacking off to Cas like that? A freakin' angel! Just thinking about it made him feel dirty, and to his horror, that made his dick stir again despite his having just climaxed.

Dean cleaned himself off and finished his shower quickly, taking an extra second to make sure all evidence of his activity had washed down the drain. He toweled off, dressed, and fixed his hair, then leaned on the sink again to glare at his reflection. Whatever Cas thought he saw in him, he was obviously wrong. Dean should count himself lucky to call the angel a friend. He sure as hell didn't deserve anything more than that.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean answered his phone as he climbed out of the Impala in the motel parking lot. “Yo, Sammy.”

“Learn anything from the vic's family?”

“Nothing useful. Library have any answers?” He juggled the phone and a six-pack as he fumbled the sticky lock and opened the room.

“Not yet, but I've still got a lot to dig through. Probably be here for a few more hours at least, if you wanna come give me a hand,” Sam said.

Tossing his key onto the table, Dean crossed to the mini-fridge to stash five of the six beers. “Naw, I'm sure you've got it all under control.”

“Dean--”

Cutting the connection with a smirk, he pocketed the phone and twisted the cap off the bottle. He shucked his suit jacket and tie and kicked off his shoes before flopping down onto his bed with a gusty sigh. As he took a deep pull of his beer, he pawed around on the nightstand for the TV remote. Flipping through several channels, he finally landed on some old Western he was pretty sure he'd seen at least once before.

Dropping the remote back onto the nightstand, Dean settled into the pillows and stared at the television, but his mind quickly drifted elsewhere.

Last night, as he avoided talking to Sam and instead suffered through his brother's constant beseeching looks and annoyed sighs when the looks were ignored, Dean had drunk himself fairly stupid, hoping in vain that it would help him sleep. Instead, he'd tossed and turned, far too anxious about what had happened with Cas – and what had happened in the shower afterward _without_ Cas – to get any real rest.

And now, though he was exhausted, his mind just kept buzzing around and around. 'Think about it,' Cas had told him. Shit, he wished he could think about anything else. Or that he had any answers.

What did he want from Cas? He had no fucking clue. He'd been perfectly happy with what he'd had before – aware of the strange _something_ that existed between them, but without the angst of having to analyze it. But that was before the words were out in the open, as if speaking them aloud gave them power.

Cas loved him. Forever.

And fuck, that was never going to stop being a shock, especially if he ever truly started to believe it. Dammit, this had to be some kind of miscommunication. There was no way he deserved that kind of devotion from anyone, let alone an angel.

But that was just it, wasn't it? As much as it made him squirm to think about, he already knew Cas was completely devoted to him. And in the dark corners of his mind that he was normally _very_ careful not to shine a light into, he'd always held tight to that. It had given him a sliver of hope that if an angel would claim a bond with him, he might not be a complete fuck up.

So if Cas loved Dean, then the real question was how did Dean feel about Cas? He gnawed at his lip. The guy was already his closest friend and one of the very few people with whom he would trust his – or more tellingly, Sam's – life. Cas was the rebellious angel who had turned his back on Heaven itself because he believed in Dean. Cas was close. Cas was family.

But Cas was also the one who unapologetically crowded his personal space, who made him flush under those soul-baring stares, and who made his pulse skitter and skip on the rare occasions he flashed a genuine smile, especially if Dean had been the one who caused it.

And he was the one Dean couldn't shake out of his mind while jerking off in the shower last night.

_Cas's hand firm at the back of his neck as he pushed him face-down into the mattress. Cas's breath hot on his back as he murmured filthy things into his skin, stubble scraping along his spine. Cas's fingers at his hip, digging in to hold him still while he fucked relentlessly into him. Cas's words melting into incoherent grunts and cries as his cock pulsed and throbbed, buried deep inside his ass--_

Jesus H. Christ on a cracker. Dean downed the dregs of the beer and ran a hand over his face to try and clear the searing images from his mind. After that little mental porno, he supposed he had to admit to himself that he might be interested in Cas as more than just a friend.

He just wasn't sure if that's what Cas was asking for. Assuming he really did love him in the first place. Dean groaned aloud. Dammit, he might have to break down and actually talk to him.

He grabbed the remote and shut off the TV. It definitely wasn't doing its job of distracting him. Heaving himself to his feet, he took his empty to the kitchenette and pulled another beer from the fridge. He cracked it open and chugged the whole thing. This conversation was going to require liquid courage – possibly more than he actually had at hand.

Dean turned to face the room at large and ran nervous fingers over his short hair. He took a steadying breath and dropped his head to issue a prayer. “Cas? Uh, I was thinking maybe we could talk?”

An immediate rustle of wings and stirring of air announced Castiel's arrival.

When their eyes met, Dean's steadying breath was stolen away. He was as lost in Cas's beautiful blues as he ever was, but this time, he could see so much more smoldering behind the stare, as if now that Dean knew his feelings, the angel didn't try to hide them anymore. The temperature in the room surged again. Clearly the heater wasn't broken after all. It was just him.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas greeted him.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, his voice as lost as he was.

After a moment of waiting, Cas prompted him, “You wished to talk?”

Dean blinked rapidly, trying to pull himself together. “Uh, yeah. About the, um, stuff from yesterday?”

“Stuff.”

The burning in his cheeks increased to the point he thought for sure his hair would catch fire. “You know. The stuff. From yesterday. I need to ask you some things.”

“Things.”

Okay, now Cas was just teasing him. Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but the straight-faced angel's expression didn't waver away from curious interest.

With a bit of a huff, Dean broke their gaze and went to sit on the edge of his bed. He gestured vaguely at Sam's bed across from him, inviting Cas to sit, too.

The angel studied him for a silent moment, then walked to the narrow space between the beds and stood directly in front of Dean, waiting there until he met his eyes once again. Dean's breath caught as he gazed up at him.

_Cas shoving him to his knees, gripping his chin to force their eyes to meet. Cas's other hand unfastening the buckle of his leather belt--_

An entirely embarrassing noise slipped from Dean's throat before he clamped his lips shut. Cas continued watching him as he slowly sat on the edge of Sam's bed, at eye level again. Thank god. That was easier.

“You had things to ask about stuff?”

Dean laughed in spite of himself, releasing the built up tension. Trust Cas to be adorable just when he needed it. Then he sobered – he couldn't be thinking of Cas as adorable before determining whether it would be a welcome thought. But first things first. “So, um, just to clarify – how long do angels live, exactly?”

Cas's brow furrowed. “The angels were created not long after the birth of this world. There's no reason we as a species shouldn't live to see it end.”

“Then how can you know, Cas? How can you possibly say you'll feel that way about me for the rest of your life, when that might literally be _forever?_ ”

Cas leaned forward, and Dean flinched as a surge of crackling power in the room made the lights flicker.

“Why do you doubt me, Dean? I've been alive for countless eons, and I know what I feel. I've never felt anything as strongly as I feel for you. I _Fell_ for you, Dean. Do you still not understand what that means?” The lights buzzed and sputtered again, more forcefully this time, and the hair on Dean's arms stood up. “When I pulled you from the Pit, everything changed. Everything. For better or worse, you are a part of who I've become, of who I _will_ become. I am Fallen, Dean. And I Fell for you.”

Taken aback by Cas's vehemence, Dean gawked at him for a few stunned moments until he finally shook his head in denial. “But Cas...it doesn't make any freakin' sense! I'm not worth all that. It's crazy. It's ridiculous!”

Cas's face went from fierce to utterly blank, and his shoulders stiffened. “Ridiculous.”

“No! No, I didn't mean it like that!” Dean scrambled to make him understand. “It's just-- I don't see _how_ you could, you know...”

“Love you.” The scary angel mask didn't crack in the slightest, and Dean felt a flicker of worry that this discussion might turn a little smitey.

“Yeah, that,” he finished lamely.

Cas's stony silence was freaking Dean out. Of course he'd fucked everything up – he always fucked things up. And he had no idea how to unfuck it.

But slowly, Cas's expression softened into something more familiar and less pants-wettingly scary. “Dean. Please don't concern yourself with the how or the why. It _is_. And it will always be.”

The knot in his gut loosened, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't ruined things before they had a chance to begin. “Okay,” he said, nodding his acceptance, at least for the sake of discussion. “So, assuming that's true--”

“It is. You deserve to be loved, Dean,” Cas cut in, but Dean ignored the interruption.

“--You say you love me, but I don't know what that means to you. What do _you_ want, Cas? I mean, what exactly are you hoping for here?”

Cas was quiet for what felt like freakin' forever, staring at Dean strangely, but then he moved from Sam's bed to Dean's, sitting so close beside him that their legs touched from knee to mid-thigh. Cas faced him, and Dean forgot to breathe as those blue eyes searched his. Then he tingled hot from head to toe when Cas raised his hands to cradle Dean's face between them. Oh, holy shit, this was actually happening. He was going to--

Slowly, carefully, Cas leaned in, touching his lips to Dean's. He pulled back almost immediately but didn't release him.

“Dean.”

His deep, rough voice sent sparks sizzling down Dean's spine to ignite a fire low in his belly. His breathing stuttered, but he didn't dare move.

“I want everything.” Cas's thumbs stroked softly over Dean's cheeks.

Dean swallowed hard. “And I want...more than we had before.”

A gentle smile appeared as Cas stared unabashedly into his eyes, with light and love shining behind the blue, and Dean thought fleetingly that maybe he could get used to this.

He grabbed the lapels of Cas's coat and dragged him forward, crushing their mouths together in a fervent kiss. Though Dean was shit at talking, he was great at kissing, so he put all the feeling he could never express aloud into it. At the touch of their lips, desire erupted under Dean's skin, boiled his blood, and filled him so full he thought he might explode.

But Cas wasn't kissing back. His hands still cradled Dean's face, but his lips weren't moving. He wasn't pulling away, but he wasn't drawing closer, either. Dean jerked back, sick with the thought that he'd somehow misread things after all. The angel was sitting stiffly, eyes wide, with a flush of pink coloring his neck and creeping into his cheeks.

Heart sinking, Dean clasped his hands around Cas's and drew them away from his cheeks. “Cas-- Dammit, I'm so sorry.”

His eyebrows drew together in typical Cas confusion. “Why did you stop?”

And now it was Dean's turn to be confused. “You...didn't seem into it.”

“Did I do something incorrectly?”

Finally it clicked. Dean was a raging moron; it wasn't that Cas didn't want to kiss him, he just didn't know how. His commanding, dominant fantasy-Cas was just that – a fantasy. Dean's anxiety bled away, and he smiled in his relief. Squeezing Cas's hands, he reassured him, “No, Cas, it was fine. I just forgot you're new at this.”

Cas's face fell a bit. “I'm sorry, Dean.”

Dean lifted Cas's chin to draw his gaze up again. “Hey, there's nothing to be sorry for. Honestly, this is pretty new to me, too. Not the sex part, but the whole...rest of it.”

“What do you mean?”

Shrugging self-consciously, Dean looked down at their hands, still clasped together, and ran a thumb over Castiel's knuckles. “I don't exactly have a great track record with this kind of thing. I'm not sure I know _how_ to be in a...” God, it felt like saying a dirty word, “...relationship.”

“Dean.” Cas tightened his hold on Dean's hand. “We already have a relationship. As friends. Are you uncomfortable with the idea of progressing it?”

“The idea of it, no. The actual doing of it...kinda?”

Cas studied him long enough that he started to squirm a little. “Dean, what do you feel for me?”

Dean opened his mouth to retort with something sarcastic like he normally would to shut down what he considered girl talk, but the look on Cas's face made him pause. An all-powerful Angel of the Lord should not look so vulnerable.

He floundered for a moment, trying to figure out what he was supposed to say. “Well, shit, Cas. I don't know.”

“Please, Dean,” Cas implored him.

Dean suppressed a groan. Fuuuck, he hated talking about this stuff. “Okay, okay... Um. Well, you're my best friend. I'm closer to you than anybody except Sam. Uhh. I like that you think for yourself, unlike most of your dick brothers.”

The longer he talked, the easier it seemed to get. “You frustrate the crap out of me sometimes, but I always trust you to have my back when I need you. I like when you're around, and I miss you when you're gone.”

He stopped and looked away, biting back anything more. “I just... If we do this, I'm afraid I'll screw things up.”

“Dean. You've hit me, stabbed me, and shot me full of iron and salt, yet here we are. I have faith that our bond will endure regardless of any mishaps.”

Cas's wry observation prompted a snort of laughter from Dean despite his worries. If there was one thing he could count on, it was that Cas would be forgiving of his fuck-ups.

He sobered again, doubt creeping in like it always did. “Are you sure this is what you want, Cas? I mean, _really_ sure?” He gestured vaguely between the two of them. “Like, _all_ of this?”

“It is. I want this. I want _you_.” The simmering affection was back in Cas's eyes, along with so much trust it made Dean's insides flutter in a way he'd normally consider embarrassing.

Dean chewed his lip as he considered it. There would be no going back to the way things were. If he fucked everything up, he could lose his best friend. But maybe he wouldn't fuck up. For whatever reason, Cas believed in him, so maybe he should, too.

He blew out a breath and nodded.

“Okay, then. I'm in.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay, then. I'm in.”

Cas blinked, surprise and hope blooming on his face. “You are?”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, man. But if this all goes south, you can't say I didn't warn you.”

“Dean...” Cas frowned at his self-deprecating tone.

“Oh, don't get your panties in a twist – I was just joking.” Mostly.

He stood, pulling Cas up with him. “What do you say we start with something simple? Kissing 101.”

He pushed the two outer layers off Cas's shoulders, tossing the overcoat and suit jacket carelessly onto Sam's bed. Then he stepped right up into Cas's personal space.

Cas shifted nervously. “What do I do?”

Dean caught his hands. “You don't need to do anything.” He brushed his thumbs soothingly over Cas's fingers. “I want you to tell me if I do anything you don't like or that makes you uncomfortable, but otherwise, just relax. Don't think – just feel, okay?”

He guided Cas's hands to rest on Dean's hips, then cupped his jaw and smiled reassuringly. Cas's lips curved into a gentle smile in return, and from the way his stomach flipped, Dean knew he was in waaay deep. Admitting to himself that he wanted Cas had burst open a dam of feelings that he didn't quite know what to do with. Usually when he felt this overwhelmed, he drowned it all in alcohol and meaningless sex until the feelings went away. His impulse right now was to lose himself in fucking Cas senseless so he wouldn't have to think too much about what it all meant.

But this was different. Complicated. Dean cared about Cas, which meant sex with him couldn't be meaningless. Plus this would be the angel's first time, and Dean wanted it to be good. He was suddenly very glad Cas's social weirdness got them kicked out of that brothel a while back. Knowing he would be the first one to touch Cas like that was one hell of a turn on.

Dean took a second to gather himself. Go slow. Be gentle. Wetting his lip with a quick flick of his tongue, he started with a simple press of the lips, like Cas had done, but let it linger until Cas relaxed under his hands and his mouth softened. He began to move a bit then, nudging and pulling at Cas's lips with his own. The sensation of stubble rasping against his skin felt so amazing, it made him dizzy wanting more, but he held himself in check. After a while, Cas seemed to melt into him, copying the gentle movements Dean was making.

Dean pulled back a fraction, so when he spoke, his lips still brushed lightly over Cas's and their unsteady breaths mingled warm and humid between them. Stroking Cas's cheekbones with his thumbs, Dean asked, “This okay so far?”

Cas opened his eyes, blinking at Dean and looking dazed. “This is... It's... Don't stop.”

Dean's breath hitched in his chest. God, the sight of the angel so flustered from a simple kiss was going to drive him into a blind rut. With a harsh reminder to himself to take it slow, Dean pulled Cas in again with a hand at the back of his neck. Gently, patiently, Dean let the kisses get a little freer, encouraging Cas to relax into more open-mouthed, but non-invasive, exploration.

The first time he let his tongue flick against the seam of Cas's lips, he was surprised by the resulting stuttering gasp of air. He paused to let him get accustomed to the idea, then returned, gradually deepening the kisses with a teasing tongue. When Cas tentatively pushed his own tongue in for an exploratory taste, Dean groaned aloud, and the angel's hands tightened convulsively on his hips.

“Yeah, Cas, just like that. It's good, so good,” Dean murmured, slipping his fingers up into Cas's dark tangle of hair and losing himself in the bliss of his mouth.

With Dean guiding him, Cas quickly gained confidence and their kisses grew messy and more frantic. Dean clutched at his back and his hair, pulling their bodies fully flush at last, and oh god, Cas had a boner.

“Fuck, Cas!” Dean groaned, pulling his mouth free and grinding his hips into Cas's.

He opened his eyes to find Cas looking stunned, jaw slack and eyes totally unfocused. Dammit, he was moving too fast. He needed to slow. The fuck. Down.

With every ounce of willpower he could muster, Dean pushed their bodies apart a few inches. He cradled Cas's face in his hands until the dazed angel met his eyes. “Sorry, Cas, I got ahead of myself. You okay?”

Cas nodded mutely.

“Use your words, buddy. Are you really okay?”

In a voice more broken than usual, Cas answered, “Yes, Dean.”

Relieved, Dean smiled and began loosening Cas's tie. “So what do you think of the kissing?”

Cas watched his hands work the tie free. “It's very wet.”

Dean paused, not sure if that was totally insulting or the funniest thing he'd heard all day. “Well, that's true. And if we keep going, there's going to be a lot more of that – slobber and sweat and jizz, all slick and sticky and gross, and it's _all_ awesome.” He slipped the tie from around Cas's neck and dropped it on Sam's bed. Trying to cover his nerves with nonchalance, he asked, “Too human for you?”

Cas's fingers tightened where they still rested on Dean's hips, and he smiled with lips pink and flush. “Exactly human enough.”

Dean dropped a quick kiss on those sinful lips and picked up Cas's hands one at a time, undoing the cuffs of his sleeves. Then he unfastened the top couple of buttons at his chest and trailed his fingers over the skin exposed in the V. “Still wanna do this?”

In answer, Cas practically attacked his face, plunging his tongue into Dean's mouth like a pro, and holy fuck, if that wasn't the hottest thing ever. Maybe fantasy-Cas wasn't so far away after all. A desperate moan crawled out of his throat at that thought. It was killing him to hold back when everything in him screamed for more, more, _more_. He couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted someone so badly – maybe not ever.

No, don't think. Feel. Cas's tongue slid over his own, pushing and probing and silently seeking. Dean caught Cas's lower lip between his teeth, then sucked as he released it, prompting a needy sound from the angel. Dean smiled into the kiss as Cas immediately nipped back, eager to try out everything Dean offered. And while Cas experimented, Dean untucked the white dress shirt and began unbuttoning the rest of it from the bottom up. The instant the last button gave way, Dean slipped his hands inside to finally, _finally_ touch the angel's fevered skin.

The moment Dean spread his hands on his chest, Cas whimpered, and again when he slid them around to glide up the firm muscle of Cas's back. Without breaking their kiss, Dean steered them to land on the bed in a tangle. With little nudges and grunts, he arranged them more or less in the middle without too many body parts dangling off the edges.

Dean slung his leg over Cas's hips to straddle his body and braced himself on his arms over the beautiful man – angel – beneath him. Cas's eyes were dark and wild, his skin flushed, and his hair even messier than usual. He was _so_ fucking beautiful.

Cas's hands settled briefly on Dean's thighs before creeping back up to their place on his hips where Dean had originally put them. Maybe he didn't realize it was okay to move them, but that was fine. This was about Cas.

Lowering himself to his elbows, Dean returned to Cas's mouth, tasting and teasing for all he was worth. Then he planted a trail of delicate kisses along Cas's jawline. At the juncture of jaw and throat, Dean sucked hard at Cas's skin and laved with his tongue.

Cas's head rolled back into the pillows. “Deeean...” he groaned.

“God, Cas!” Dean gasped into Cas's neck as the broken sound of his name in that glorious voice triggered a pulsing throb in his cock, leaving a dribble of pre-come to soak into his boxers. “Oh fuck, keep doing that. Make noise. I wanna know what makes you feel good. Please, Cas.”

Dean felt him nod and quickly went back to putting wet, sucking kisses all down Cas's throat. The angel shifted restlessly beneath him, his hands finally moving up Dean's back and over his shoulders and arms. Dean looked up to see that Cas's eyes were closed and his lips were moving around the whimpers and moans bubbling up from his throat.

He threw Cas's dress shirt wide open, and _shit_ , he looked good. So much gorgeous fucking skin to taste. “Fuck, Cas...”

His hands splayed over the lean muscle of his body, smoothing over flat planes and kneading at gentle swells. Dean nuzzled across those defined collar bones, then mouthed his way down the center of his chest. Every breath Cas took was labored, with a rasping, guttural sound that seemed to come from deep within him.

Dean dragged a thumb over one of Cas's nipples and the angel choked out his name in a ragged voice, so of course, Dean did it again. When he closed his mouth over it and sucked, Cas arched up off the bed like he'd been shocked with a live wire.

“Dean!” he sobbed, followed by a stream of slurred Enochian. Dean had no idea what he was saying, but it was so fucking _hot_ , his aching cock surged again, leaving a bigger wet spot to soak into his pants.

In between licking and sucking his way between both of Cas's nipples, he murmured praise for the angel. “God, that's so hot, Cas. You're so beautiful, so good! Make noise for me – tell me what you want.”

Cas rolled his head side to side on the pillow, incoherent mumblings spilling from his mouth in fits and starts around his rasping breaths. His fingers were claws clenching into the bedspread beside him until his knuckles were white and the tendons stood out on the backs of his shaking hands.

Afraid he'd overwhelmed him again, Dean paused. “Cas? Are you okay?”

Cas released the bedding, clapping his hands abruptly to the sides of Dean's face. He raised his own head to pin Dean with the most terrifyingly intense glare he'd ever seen. His blue eyes were lit from within with a white fire, and Dean was bluntly reminded that Castiel was _not_ human. “Dean. If you stop now, I will smite you.”

“Fuck, Cas!” Dean moaned as heat flashed through him like lightning. God, that voice, those eyes... they were one hundred percent fantasy-Cas. “You have no idea what you're doing to me right now.”

The fingers clamped around his head tightened. “Dean. I said don't stop,” Cas growled.

In answer, Dean sank his teeth into Cas's pectoral muscle, following it up by sucking a bruise there. Cas hissed and spouted another torrent of Enochian dirty talk – or at least Dean chose to believe it was dirty talk. For a moment, he closed his eyes just to feel the angel beneath him so lost in pleasure. When he looked up again, the rapturous look on Cas's face made him grin like an idiot. _He_ caused that. _He_ was making Cas come utterly undone.

Dean licked and bit his way back up to Cas's throat, ending at his ear, running his tongue around the outer curve. He pressed his cheek to Cas's as an anchor for himself and whispered, “God, you're amazing like this. So gorgeous, Cas.”

He brought one knee between Cas's and dragged his palm up the outside of the angel's trouser-clad thigh. The Enochian monologue got louder and more unsteady as he paused on his hip, fingers digging in possessively. He let his hand drift closer, stroking Cas's hip, his inner thigh, and finally letting his thumb brush along the pronounced length of his cock.

Cas's hips lunged up off the bed. “Oh, Dean!” he cried out between gasping breaths. “ _Dean!_ ”

Whispering reassurances against the angel's throat, Dean shifted a bit to the side so his quaking fingers could work open Cas's belt and unfasten his pants. His own cock was pressed firmly into Cas's thigh through their layers of clothing, and though the need was nearly overwhelming, he managed not to rut against him like a dog.

Dean pushed open Cas's fly, the light touch of fingers through his boxers causing the angel to groan and thrust his hips up uselessly, straining for more friction.

“Easy, angel. I've got you,” Dean murmured.

Slipping his fingers beneath the elastic of Cas's underwear, Dean pushed the uncooperative boxers and slacks a little farther down until he had enough room to work. Knowing Cas would be extremely sensitive, Dean gripped him gently, but even so, Cas made a strained keening sound as his hips surged upward, trying to fuck himself into Dean's fist.

Dean looked down and had to bite his lip to hold back whimpers at the sight of his own hand wrapped around Cas's cock, peeking out from the layers of clothes. The head was flushed nearly purple with pre-release dripping down to Dean's fingers. Gathering up the pre-come, he used it to slick his palm and provide a bit of glide, but it wasn't enough. Cas made a growling noise of disapproval when Dean released his cock briefly to spit in his palm, but the broken flow of Enochian returned when the hand did.

Dean gave a few slow strokes of his hand, then pumped faster as the words Cas uttered deteriorated into desperate sounding moans and cries. Shifting his body up a bit, Dean sucked at the salty skin of Cas's throat and brought his lips to the angel's ear.

“Is this what you wanted? You gonna come for me, Castiel?”

“ _Dean!_ ” With a strangled cry, Cas arched back into the pillows, and every light bulb in the room burst with a _pop_. Startled by the sound, Dean flinched, but kept working his cock, coaxing out every last spark of pleasure. His eyes were riveted on Cas's face, mesmerized by every twitch and shift of expression as the angel rode out his very first orgasm. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Hot damn, he'd just made an angel come. Was he more likely to go to Heaven or Hell for that?

At last, Cas collapsed, falling limp on the bed and gasping for air he probably didn't even need. His eyes eventually opened, no longer burning white, but when they settled on Dean, they all but glowed with love and awe. The strangest feeling welled up, suffusing Dean in warmth. With a start, he realized it might actually be happiness. It'd been so long since he'd felt it that he'd forgotten how good it could be. And even better, he could see it reflected in the angel's eyes.

Cas had always _looked_ at Dean. Not like other people look at things, just skimming the surface with their eyes. He _saw_ Dean. Even from that first terrifying night in the old barn. He saw through the bluster and the snark to what was beneath. To the things Dean mostly kept hidden even from himself. And now, looking into those intense blue eyes, Dean thought he might be seeing a little bit of Castiel for the first time.

And he liked it.


	4. Chapter 4

“Dean.”

Cas's whisper was raw and ragged. He lifted a trembling hand to touch Dean's cheek, trailing his fingers gently over his scratchy stubble. Dean's skin tingled everywhere he touched, and he wondered vaguely if that was some kind of crazy angel afterglow.

Turning his head slightly, Dean kissed the pad of Cas's thumb. And now his lips tingled, too. “You okay?”

Blinking slowly, Cas groaned an affirmative.

“Good.” Smiling fondly, Dean leaned forward to plant a kiss on Cas's forehead before swinging his feet off the side of the bed. “Don't move.”

Before he could stand up, though, Cas clamped a hand around his wrist. His grip wasn't tight, but when Dean tugged, he couldn't free himself. “Cas, I need to get up.”

“No,” Cas mumbled, more gravel than voice. “Stay.”

Leaning back down, Dean dropped another kiss on Cas's lips. He'd intended it as just a quick peck, but Cas instantly had his hand at the back of his head, deepening the kiss into something languid and sweet.

Pulling away as far as Cas would let him, Dean murmured, “I'll be right back. Gotta make sure Sammy doesn't come busting in here any time soon.”

Another lazy blink, and then Cas released him. “Hurry.”

Dean surreptitiously adjusted the crotch of his pants then stepping into his shoes, glad that at least he didn't have to take the time to get dressed before heading outside. Picking up his keys and Sam's duffel, he paused at the door, looking back to the blissed out angel on his bed. “Don't go anywhere.”

“I won't,” Cas replied.

He stepped out to the Impala, pulling his phone from his pocket to call Sam as he shoved the duffel into the trunk.

Sam picked up on the third ring. “No, Dean, I'm not bringing you pie. Or beer.”

“You think that's why I'm calling? You wound me, Sammy. No, dude, I'm calling cuz Barry White's in town.” He held the phone a few inches away from his ear.

As expected, Sam's voice blasted through the speaker. “Dammit, Dean, you jackass! I've been busting my butt for hours here, and you're picking up some bar chick?”

“Ah, cram it, Sam. Usual Code White protocol applies – your shit's in the car, so go get your own damn room. I'm not responsible for any therapy bills if you walk in on us.” A twinge of guilt hit Dean for not correcting Sam's assumption, but he wasn't ready to talk about it just yet. Besides, that was likely to be a painfully long talk, and he had way better things to be doing right now.

Sam gave an annoyed sigh. “Whatever, asshat.”

“And I wouldn't say no if you did bring pie,” Dean rushed to add just before Sam cut the connection.

He paused again right outside the door to the room. Cas and his magical angel ears probably heard every word of that conversation. Dean cringed a little. He didn't want him hurt or pissed off because Dean was too chicken shit to be up front with Sam. When he stepped back into the room, though, Cas was still right where he'd been, his eyes opening to follow Dean as soon as he came in the door. Maybe he hadn't heard them after all.

Dean dropped his phone and keys onto the table by the door, then crossed over to the bathroom and grabbed one of the extra towels. Cas didn't move when he returned to sit on the edge of the bed. Dean cleaned up the come from Cas's stomach and gently drew the waistband of his boxers back up where they belonged. Wadding up the towel, he chucked it off the end of the bed.

Stretching out beside him, Dean propped his head on his hand to watch Cas drift in his post-orgasm haze. His dark hair was rumpled, sticking out in ridiculous directions, and he wore the most adorable dreamy expression on his face. The warm feeling welled up in Dean's chest again, pushing a smile out of him.

Unable to resist touching, he let his palm glide over Cas's chest and stomach in slow patterns. “So what'd you think? Was it what you expected?” he asked.

Cas hummed thoughtfully. “I had no specific expectations, since I'm relatively unaccustomed to physical experiences in a human vessel. But it was...” He groped for words before shaking his head helplessly. “There aren't words in any human language to describe how it felt.”

Dean smirked. “So, good then?”

A soft, warm smile broke over Cas's lips. “Yes.”

“Because I'm so awesome.”

Cas placed his hand over Dean's, clasping it to his chest. “Because I love you.”

He'd just been being a smartass, but Cas sounded so serious, so sincere. Dean's teasing grin faded as the overwhelming weight of it all hit him square in the chest, making it hard to breathe.

But then Cas's serious expression changed into an exaggerated version, and he added, “And _also_ because you are awesome.”

A sudden overpowering need to kiss the shit out of Cas drove Dean to surge forward, claiming him in a messy clash of mouths. Cas rumbled low in his throat and clutched at Dean's shirt as he pushed into the kiss.

Out of breath, Dean finally pulled away. The urge to say something was strong and only growing stronger, pressing him to tell Cas how he felt. But he still didn't know exactly what he was feeling, so he was left painfully silent, staring into wide blue eyes.

“There is one thing, though,” Cas said, tracing his fingers along Dean's ribs.

Shit. He knew it. Cas had heard him on the phone with Sam. “Yeah?” he asked hoarsely, avoiding Cas's gaze.

“Was I mistaken in my understanding that sex involved significantly less clothing than this?”

It took a moment for the question to sink in since it was so far from what he was expecting. Dean chuckled. “No, not mistaken – it certainly can be true, but not always. Sometimes wearing something is hotter than wearing nothing. Depends on the situation.”

“I see.” Cas mulled it over. “May I remove your clothing?”

Dean swallowed hard. “Um. Hell, yeah.”

Cas started unbuttoning the dress shirt Dean had worn with his fed suit that day, the level of concentration on his face seemingly far too high for the task. He pulled them both up to a sitting position so he could push the shirt off his shoulders. Dean stripped his arms from the sleeves and tossed the shirt to the floor. Cas's eyes raked over his chest, and a flush prickled over Dean's skin. He felt that gaze like a physical touch.

“You, too, Cas. Shirt off,” he insisted. “It's only fair.”

From the look Cas gave him, Dean thought he was going to refuse at first, but eventually Cas pulled off his shirt, tossing it to the floor, too. Dean knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. Under his usual trench coat and suit, Cas was rocking one hell of a body.

“Damn, Cas,” he murmured in appreciation.

Cas angled his head to the side in a manner that should have been cute, but the look on his face was far too hungry for cute to apply. “Tell me how to proceed, Dean. I wish to bring you pleasure as you did for me.”

“Oh, believe me, Cas. I enjoyed the hell out of that, too.”

“Nevertheless, you didn't reach orgasm, and I want to learn how to give that to you.”

God, he loved Cas's bluntness. Sure, sometimes it was awkward as hell, but it was just so _Cas_. “Well, I ain't gonna argue with that,” he laughed. “I can't really tell you 'how to proceed', though. There's not a step-by-step here. It's more of a learn as you go sort of thing.”

Dean lay back onto the bed, partially propped against the pillow and headboard. He beckoned with a hand. “Come here.”

With a puzzled frown, Cas crawled up the bed until he was close enough that Dean threaded his fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and pulled him in for a tongue-heavy kiss. He hooked the other hand around Cas's thigh and guided him to straddle his lap. By the time they pulled apart, they were both breathless.

“You can just... try stuff and see what works.”

“Try stuff,” Cas repeated skeptically.

Dean felt a blush spread up his neck to his cheeks. “Yeah, you know. Touching, kissing...sucking.” His breath caught on the last word. His erection, which had waned a bit after the excitement of getting Cas off has passed, roused again eagerly at the thought of Cas sucking any part of him.

Cas continued eyeing him uncertainly, so Dean leaned back, tucking one arm behind his head. “It's cool, Cas. Go to town. I'll let you know what's good and what isn't. You can do anything you want to me.” _Oh, god, yes, anything._

Cautiously, Cas reached out to touch just below Dean's collarbone, brushing his fingertips over the tattoo there. Goosebumps erupted at the tingle that accompanied the light caresses. The trailing fingers drifted lower, almost tickling as they traced over the muscle of his chest and the slightly softer flesh of his belly. Soon Cas had both hands spread over Dean's skin, exploring everything he could reach.

As he got more comfortable, he began trying different kinds of touches – pushing, squeezing, prodding, scratching. He kneaded gently at what might someday become love handles. He scraped his fingers up Dean's abdomen, from the waistband of his slacks upward. He rubbed at one of his nipples, but unlike Cas's, Dean's weren't particularly sensitive.

The simple and sometimes strange touches felt amazing even though it seemed to Dean somewhat as if he were being cataloged like a specimen in a lab. With every small sound Dean made or hitch in his breath, Cas flicked his eyes up to his face to confirm the reactions. But when Cas leaned down to start exploring with his mouth, Dean stopped giving a shit about much of anything else. The tingling tongue sampled the vast majority of his chest, then laved up along his throat where Cas clamped down to suck at a spot just below his ear.

Dean tipped his head back and groaned, “Hnnngh, yeah. God, that's good, Cas.”

Cas hummed an answer, but didn't stop what he was doing. Dean was going to have one hell of a hickey there. The angel nuzzled his way up to Dean's ear, licking along the outer curve. Dean moaned again, then yelped in surprise when Cas's tongue found the inside of his ear.

“Dude, gross!” Dean laughed as he quickly stuck his finger in his ear to wipe out the spit. “Ew. Okay, that goes on the 'no' list. No wet willies. Ever.”

“Understood.”

Dean tucked his hand behind his head again and settled back into the pillow. “The rest of it was definitely fair game, though.”

A smile teased at Cas's mouth. “Understood.”

He leaned in again to continue his sampling of skin, hands still roving over Dean's body. Some of the things Cas chose to do were downright weird, like plucking at Dean's armpit hair with his lips and biting his elbow, but most of them were fucking awesome. He was so intensely focused on every movement and Dean's every reaction, that it made even the smallest not-weird touch extra hot.

Eventually, he worked his way down the arm Dean wasn't using as a pillow, turning it this way and that, touching and exploring in ways Dean had never realized could be so erotic. No one had ever licked and nibbled at the crease of his elbow before, but it turned out he kinda liked it. Who knew?

And when Cas pulled his index finger into his mouth and sucked, Dean gasped aloud and his body surged upward, bucking his groin into Cas where he straddled him. Every nerve in his finger seemed to be directly connected to his dick.

Pulling away for a moment, Cas asked, “That's pleasurable?”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Dean exclaimed.

Pleased with Dean's reaction, Cas kept at his hand for a while, testing out different fingers or multiple fingers at the same time and whether licking or biting elicited a similar response. Finally he kissed Dean's knuckles and returned his hand to the bed. He leaned forward again, nipping at Dean's lower lip before sinking his tongue into his mouth, putting their Kissing 101 lessons to good use. Dean's hand came up to clutch at the back of Cas's neck, but Cas growled and pressed his arm back down to the mattress.

Okay, then. This was Cas's show. Got it. He tilted his head back and let Cas do as he liked.

Suddenly, something stroked the inner sides of Dean's legs from ankle to crotch in one long sweep. He flinched in surprise, but whined at the incredible feel of it, smooth and sleek with a subtle hum, brushing over his skin right through his clothes.

“Holy fucking hell, Cas, what is that?” he gasped out.

“What, this?” The caress came again, slower this time, and with more attention paid to all the subtle contours of his legs.

“Ohhh damn! _Yes_ , that!”

Cas tipped his head slightly. “You like it.” It wasn't a question.

The impossible touches went from long caresses to little flicks and swirls that teased the insides of his thighs. “ _Fuck_ , yes, I like it! What is it?”

“My wings.”

Well, duh, of course it was. If Dean had two brain cells left to rub together, he'd have realized that. As it was, he didn't give a rat's ass if it was tentacles as long as the touching didn't stop.

Cas placed a hand in the center of Dean's chest and sat up. Walking himself back a bit on his knees, Cas gave himself enough space to undo Dean's slacks, then crawled off the end of the bed, stripping Dean's pants and boxers down as he went, pulling his socks off last. Dean clenched his fists into the pillow, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable in his nudity but also wildly aroused by Cas's eyes on him. His hips rocked subtly, the muscles in his abdomen already straining to thrust himself into something. Anything. His cock ached to be touched, but he waited to see what Cas would do.

Cas stood shirtless at the foot of the bed, his eyes searing trails in Dean's skin as they raked over his body. Finally, their eyes met, and Dean's lungs failed him for a second. This didn't feel like other times Cas stared at Dean. Yes, there was all the new-found love and lust, but what stunned him was the fierce possessiveness there, as if Dean belonged to him alone.

Dean wanted that. Needed it. He wanted to be Cas's so badly it hurt. Dean whimpered at the throbbing ache in his groin.

“Cas, _please._ ” he begged.

“Please what, Dean?”

“Fuck, Cas, touch me! Friggin' touch me with those wings of yours!” Dean cried desperately.

Cas's brows raised and eyes narrowed at his tone, and Dean scrambled to fix it.

“I mean, _will_ you touch me, Cas? Please touch me with your wings?”

He was immediately rewarded with a cool, tingling caress that felt like heaven on his overheated skin. It started at the center of his chest but then traveled slowly down, diverting to the outside of his thigh, bypassing his cock completely at the last second. He whined through his teeth, but didn't bitch about it, figuring Cas was torturing him a little extra for being pushy. Sure enough, the next touch gave him what he needed.

Dean gave a wordless cry as the wings stroked along his cock at last. His back arched, and he dug his heels into the mattress, pushing into the touch as much as he could. What he assumed were feathers felt sleek and soft, but firm enough to provide the pressure and friction he was so desperate for.

“Dean, open your eyes.” The words rumbled through his consciousness, adding another layer to the intense pleasure buzzing through him.

His eyes snapped open, and he blinked, trying to focus. Beyond his own body writhing and grinding on the bed, Cas filled his view, the very picture of power. Cas's face was rapt in his concentration, eyes gleaming white behind the blue. The muscles of his bared shoulders shifted and flexed as he worked his invisible wings over Dean's cock. His lips were parted around heavy breaths, and the line of his pants was distended by his obvious arousal.

“Oh, fuck, Cas,” Dean choked out, his eyes fluttering shut again.

“I said open your eyes, Dean. I want to see you.”

Dean forced his eyes open again and fixed them on his angel. He gasped as a new sensation added to his sensory overload – light flicks and touches against the underside of his balls and along his perineum. He twisted his fists tighter into the pillow as animal noises tore out of his throat.

Cas's voice was a ragged growl. “Tell me this brings you pleasure, Dean. Will the touch of my wings bring you to climax?”

“Yes! Yes, _fuck_ yes, Cas.” Heat and need made his rhythmic thrusts into Cas's feathers become erratic as he chased his peak. “Please, I need-- Oh, shit. Ohhh, Cas. _Castiel!_ ”

The angel's full name broke from his lips as he tumbled into ecstasy. Strangled sobbing sounds followed as his cock erupted, sending bursts of come over his stomach and chest. When the last of it pulsed out in a weak dribble, the tension thrumming through his body snapped, and he collapsed back into the bed, trembling and sucking great gasps of air.

“Cas,” he mumbled, reaching out blindly until a hand took his. He pulled until he felt Cas's weight dip the edge of the bed beside him.

When he felt fingers comb gently through his hair, Dean finally looked up to see Castiel gazing back at him. Cas's hand slipped down to cup his cheek, his thumb stroking his cheekbone. Dean leaned into the touch, too hazy to worry about how girly or needy that might seem.

He felt a flash of disappointment when Cas took his hand away, but then those fingers were at his stomach, trailing through the puddle of come. Cas lifted his hand, examining the stuff curiously, then stuck two fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean. Dean whimpered weakly, and his cock gave a valiant effort to respond, though all it managed was a feeble twitch.

“Oh my god. So fuckin' hot, Cas,” he slurred.

With a small smile, Cas swiped a finger through Dean's come again and offered it out to him. Dean only hesitated for a second before he opened up and sucked Cas's finger into his mouth, working the length of it with his tongue. Judging by the sharp intake of breath, he guessed Cas liked that.

Then Dean made a face as he moved a little too much, and some of the jizz on his stomach drooled down his side. He released Cas's hand, and lifted his chin toward the end of the bed. “Towel?” he asked.

“That's not necessary, Dean,” Cas told him.

Dean frowned, not getting it, until he glanced down to see all of the mess was gone. Well, that was handy as hell. “Nice,” he said with a smile tweaking one corner of his mouth. He was seriously digging the whole angel thing.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Why're you still wearing pants?”

Instead of answering, Cas stood, his still unfastened pants hanging loosely at his hips. Dean's dick gave another twitch and his face heated as he flashed back to the image he'd had in his head earlier of being on his knees for the angel. Holy hell, he _just_ came. How could he be getting all hot again thinking about Cas's cock in his mouth? He blinked himself back to reality.

After he'd taken off the rest of his clothes, Cas sat again at the edge of the bed. Dean wanted him to lie down with him, but didn't want to ask and come off clingy. Nobody liked clingy.

Cas glanced at Dean briefly – just a glance and not a stare – and it made him look shy. It was ridiculously adorable, but Dean was curious why he was suddenly all bashful.

“Was that...” Cas fished for a word, “...acceptable?”

“Dude,” Dean chuckled in disbelief. “You just made me bust a nut all over myself by touching me with your _invisible freakin' wings_. That was way the hell better than acceptable.”

Cas ducked his head and smiled, and Dean had to shove back the excessively mushy feelings that level of cuteness triggered. Instead, he relaxed back into his pillow and settled for resting his hand on the angel's thigh. Cas's smile grew as he watched Dean's fingers trace back and forth on his skin.

“Dean? Even though we both reached orgasm--”

“Came, Cas. We both came.”

“--even though we both came, I find my desire to touch you hasn't subsided.”

Ignoring the warm fluttering that flared up in his belly, Dean shrugged and said, “No reason you have to stop. But wait, hang on...”

Dean rolled off the bed and lifted the covers, sliding back in beneath them. He gave Cas's hip a push so he'd stand up, then flipped back the covers on that side.

“Come on, get in,” he encouraged.

Slipping into the narrow bed beside Dean, Cas tried to get comfortable, but clearly had no idea what he was doing. Dean took pity on him and pulled him close with an arm around his shoulders. Cas seemed to get the idea, hitching one knee over to twine their legs together, but he didn't settle down. Instead he propped up on one elbow to stare at Dean some more.

Cas reached up to trace his fingers delicately over the lines of Dean's face, his expression filled with tenderness. “You are so beautiful,” he breathed.

Making a face, Dean snorted. “Shut up. No, I'm not.”

“You are beautiful,” Cas repeated.

“Whatever.”

“You are.”

“Cas...” Dean groaned in exasperation, his cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

Narrowing his eyes, Cas said, “You are aware of how attractive you are.”

Dean shrugged self-consciously. “I don't know. I guess?” He knew perfectly well people found him good looking. It was a huge part of how he did his freaking job – people were easy to charm and cajole into cooperating when they found him attractive. But it's not like he could help what he looked like, and it didn't mean a damn thing anyway, except he inherited good genes.

Cupping his jaw, Cas forced him to meet his eyes. “I'm talking about more than your face, Dean. _You_ are beautiful. Yes, your body is perfection, but I'm referring to _you_. Who you are as a person. Dean, your soul is so bright and so pure – you're utterly breathtaking in your beauty.”

And the thing was, Dean could tell that he meant it. The truth of it was right there on his face. Despite how badly Dean had fucked up his life and the whole goddamn world, Cas still saw him as someone beautiful and good. As someone to love.

Cas loved him. Just as he was.

Awesome or not.

 


	5. Chapter 5

To Dean's relief, Cas finally quit trying to convince him of how fantabulous he was. Dean had always been uncomfortable with praise, but the open adoration Cas was directing his way was more than he could deal with right now – he was just barely wrapping his head around the whole “Cas loves me” thing.

Eventually, Dean must have dozed off because next thing he knew, someone was pounding on the door. He scrubbed his thumb and fingers over his eyes, trying to shake off the disorientation as he sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. When he blinked his eyes open again, Cas was already at the door. Totally naked.

Dean quickly yanked the sheet over to cover his lap. “ _Cas, no!_ ” he hissed.

But the door was open, and Cas addressed the person waiting outside. “Yes?”

There was a momentary pause before their visitor said, “There've been a buncha calls to the office about noise from this room. Have fun and all, sugar, but keep it down, wouldja? I don't wanna have to throw you boys out.” The voice was female, older, and definitely roughened by many years of whiskey and/or cigarettes.

“My apologies for the disturbance. I will make certain the room is soundproofed hereafter,” Cas assured her.

Another pause. “Whatever you say, honey, just quit ticking off the other guests. And for Pete's sake, put that thing away.”

Dean heard her footsteps as she shuffled away.

Cas closed the door and turned to Dean looking puzzled. “Who is Pete?”

“Cas! What the hell, man? You don't answer the door with your junk out!” Dean waved vaguely at Cas's nether regions.

“Why not?”

Dean threw his hands up in exasperation. “Because you just don't, that's why not!”

With the facial equivalent of a shrug, Cas moved back toward the bed.

“Hey, whoa, watch where you step – there's glass from the broken lights,” Dean cautioned.

But Cas told him, “No, I removed the glass. The bulbs will need to be replaced by the management, however.” He slipped back into bed. “Besides, it wouldn't have harmed me.”

“Hm. Fair point,” Dean acknowledged.

He rearranged the covers he'd yanked out of place, floofing them back out flat. He fell back onto the mattress, but before could even think about getting comfortable, he was being rolled onto his side, facing away from the angel.

“Cas? What're you doing?”

“Finding a suitable position,” Cas answered, slipping an arm around Dean's middle and pulling him tightly against the full length of his warm, firm body.

Dean's mouth went dry. “Uh. For what?”

“This gives me maximum contact with your body while still leaving my hand free to touch you.” Cas's lips were so close to the back of Dean's neck, he could actually feel the words vibrate against his skin.

Dean shifted, trying to turn in Cas's hold. “It's called spooning.”

“Interesting that humans consider this arrangement of bodies significant enough to give it a name.” Cas nudged Dean's shoulder back around to where it had been.

“I don't know if that counts as giving it a name, really, since it's just describing the shape of it. It's like two spoons stacked together in a drawer.” He shifted again, scooting around in increments so he could face Cas. “Look, if you wanna spoon, that's cool. But I get to be the big spoon.”

Cas scrunched up the bridge of his nose. “I don't understand what that means.”

“It means turn over, Cas.” Dean gave him a push, encouraging him to roll to his other side. “Big spoon holds the little spoon.”

Reluctantly, Cas complied, allowing Dean to cozy up behind him, but only for about a minute. He pulled away and turned back over to face Dean.

“You will be the little spoon,” Cas told him.

“No way, I called big spoon. _You_ be the little spoon.”

Cas's eyes narrowed. Before Dean realized what was happening, he found himself back on his other side with Cas snugged up behind him. Crap. He hadn't taken into account Cas's obstinance and, more importantly, his significant strength advantage.

“Cas! Dammit, I'm not the little spoon!” he complained, struggling to turn over again, but he was pinned by Cas's arm.

“By your own rules, I had already chosen big spoon before you 'called it'. While being little spoon does allow for a great deal of body contact, it doesn't provide enough opportunity for me to touch you. So I'm big spoon.”

Dean put up some token resistance, but eventually acknowledged defeat with a huff. “ _Fine_. But nobody else ever needs to know I was little spoon.”

Cas settled in behind him. Soon his nose and lips were nuzzling at the back of Dean's neck, spawning goosebumps. His free hand explored the expanse of Dean's chest and belly and drifted over his hip and thigh in soothing strokes. Dean closed his eyes, gradually relaxing into the soft touches. He hated to admit it, but being little spoon actually felt really fucking good. God help him if Sam ever found out he thought so, though. He'd never hear the end of it.

“And just for the record, if the person who's the big spoon is smaller than the person who's little spoon, then it's not spoons,” he murmured. “You're a jet pack.”

“My true form is much larger than you. I'm the big spoon.”

Dean didn't answer. Cas was a stubborn son of a bitch, so there was no point in arguing. And if letting him call himself the big spoon meant he'd keep cuddling Dean, then all the better. Not that this was cuddling. It just felt nice to be held was all.

Across the room, Dean's phone buzzed on the table where he'd left it. Cas's hand stopped roving.

He asked, “Should you answer that?”

“No. Fuck it, I don't wanna get up.

Eventually the phone stopped buzzing, but about thirty seconds later, it began vibrating across the tabletop again.

“Dammit,” Dean grumbled. “Stupid freaking phone.” He rolled out of Cas's arms, crossed to the table, and checked the device's display. “Stupid freaking Sam.” Of course. Just because the moose was pissed off, he had to go and be an asshole, interrupting when he _knew_ Dean was in the middle of stuff. He scowled and powered down the phone.

Dean dropped it back onto the table and went back to his side of the bed.

Huh. His side.

He had a side of the bed.

A little smile he couldn't restrain broke out on his face as Dean crawled back under the covers and let Cas manhandle him back into being the little spoon. Cas resumed fondling everything he could reach. Well... almost everything.

If it were anyone else, Dean would think the angel's slow, teasing exploration of his body was intended to torture him. The curious hand caressed him, bringing heat to the surface everywhere it graced his skin. Every reverent touch aroused him physically, of course, but emotionally as well, which was confusing as hell and possibly a little terrifying.

The things he'd been feeling over the last twenty-four hours were... overwhelming. He just wasn't used to this. Being cared for. Being loved unconditionally. Hell, trusting people with his life was difficult enough and happened only rarely – trusting someone with his heart was inconceivable. At least, before now.

Now, with Cas, it might actually be okay.

But Dean stopped worrying about any of that as Cas's touches grew steadily more sensual. His hand felt so good caressing Dean's skin, making long strokes over his shoulder and hip, chest and belly, and if only he would move just a _little bit lower_. If Dean had any telekinetic abilities at all, he'd have discovered them for sure with how desperately he was willing Cas's hand to grab his cock. And even though Dean could feel Cas's erection press tantalizingly against his ass, Cas just continued with the same torturous touches and gentle sucks and kisses on his shoulder and the back of his neck.

His need grew until he was whimpering with each panting breath. Each time Cas's hand wandered close, Dean's hips twitched, and his dripping dick jumped, straining for the touch that never came.

Then Cas's hips began a subtle rocking, each tiny thrust nudging his cock, the tip of it slick with pre-come, along the cleft of Dean's ass.

“Dean.”

The raspy groan in his ear sent a shiver down Dean's spine. “Cas...” he gasped.

“I like this. Feeling you against me, so aroused and needy. It's very stimulating.”

“Fuck, yeah, it is,” Dean groaned.

Suddenly, Cas was moving, rolling Dean onto his stomach and moving him to the center of the narrow mattress – literally lifting him and shifting him over. Dean's eyes involuntarily screwed themselves shut at the unexpected rush of heat that caused. Cas was so much stronger than him, yet so gentle, and it aroused something in Dean, something that he wasn't sure he understood, but it was shockingly intense.

Cas grasped his wrists and tucked his hands under the pillow beneath his cheek before sliding his palms down Dean's arms to his shoulders and along the muscles in his back. Dean arched into his touch when his hand traveled down to cup his butt cheek and give a squeeze.

“What're you doing?” Dean asked breathlessly. His cock was pressed between his belly and the bed, and he wasn't sure if that was better than before or not. At least there was pressure, if not much friction.

Draping his body half over Dean's, Cas bit down on his ear. “Trying stuff,” he growled, “as you requested.”

Cas kneaded Dean's ass for a moment longer, then continued with the roaming hand. It felt incredibly good. And weirdly enough for Dean, being on his stomach and having his hands pinned under the pillow was making him _so_ goddamn hot. Sure, he'd let girls tie him up a few times in the past, which was fun enough, but it never made his blood run hot. Not like _this_. He wondered briefly how it would be if he asked Cas to tie him to the bed, and the mere thought sent hot pinpricks of pleasure rippling over his skin.

Cas trailed his hand up the length of Dean's spine and scraped his nails lightly over his scalp before threading his fingers into his short hair and gripping tight. Dean gasped and tipped his head back, following the pull of Cas's fingers. The angel leaned over him, his breath warm on Dean's cheek. If he looked to the side as far as his eyes would go, Dean could just see Cas's face, lit with an expression of interest and realization, and his breath came a little quicker.

“You like that,” Cas murmured.

Dean squeezed his eyes closed, panting out, “Yes.” Oh, fuck yes, he did.

Cas grunted thoughtfully.

The grip he had on Dean's hair eased, and Dean dropped his head to the pillow. The hand slid lower, and Cas gripped the back of Dean's neck and pushed down just enough to make Dean's breath hiccup before he released the pressure.

Dean blinked open the eye that wasn't squashed into the pillow. That blazing blue gaze burned back at him. “Cas,” Dean whimpered. He didn't even know what he was asking for. He just needed _something_.

Cas had been lying half on Dean, but now he moved to straddle Dean's ass. He leaned forward, slipping his hands under the pillow to grip Dean's forearms, his weight holding him down. A choking moan rolled out of Dean. He strained against Cas's hold on him, and the bucking of his body set Cas's cock rubbing between the cheeks of his ass.

With a long groan of his own at the friction on his shaft, Cas observed, “You like it, being restrained. You respond favorably to being dominated sexually. Don't you, Dean?”

“Yes.” Dean's face heated – his cheeks tingled he was blushing so hard. “By you, just you.” He needed Cas to know that this – whatever _this_ was – was something new. Something unique to Cas.

“Why, Dean?” Cas rasped. “Why just me?

The angel rocked his hips, skimming his dick in long strokes against Dean's ass. His thrusts grew shorter and faster, along with his breathing. With the limited movement he was allowed, Dean desperately pushed back against Cas, but at the same time, tried to grind his own cock against the sheets. Anything that would get him closer to release.

“Because I trust you,” Dean answered more honestly than he probably would have if he weren't half out of his mind with lust. “I know you'll take care of me.”

The sweat that had built up between their bodies let Cas's cock glide more freely against Dean's skin, and Cas pumped his hips frantically as he neared his edge. “Dean!” he cried out as his thrusts stuttered erratically. “Oh, Dean! Ah!”

Dean felt the warm flood of Cas's release spilling over him. Hot pulses of fluid pooled at the base of his spine and got smeared along the crack of his ass with Cas's shuddering finish. Dean buried his forehead in the pillow and muffled his cry of pleasure. Some part of his mind wondered what the fuck was wrong with him, getting off on his angel holding him down and coming all over him. But he did. He loved it, and he wanted more.

“Dean,” Cas moaned, the scrape of stubble on Dean's spine sending shivers the length of his body. He still rocked his softening cock against Dean's ass, slowly and dreamily, whispering words of Enochian into his skin. The pool of come squelched between them, spilling out and onto the sheets. Cas released one of Dean's arms and ran his fingers through the trails of semen, painting Dean's hip.

Still achingly hard and desperate for friction on his cock, Dean whimpered and squirmed beneath Cas, trying and failing to rub himself against the mattress.

Castiel began dropping light kisses over Dean's back in between his Enochian praises. He slid one knee up between Dean's thighs, then brought the other knee in to push Dean's legs apart. Dean gasped, his back arching and his balls drawing up tight. Cas grabbed him by the hips and pulled up to his elbows and knees, ass in the air.

“Cas?” Dean was shivering uncontrollably and sucking air through his slack lips. He wasn't sure where this was going, and though he trusted Cas, he didn't know if he was ready for... everything.

Cas's hand slid up to the back of Dean's neck, pushing his face down to the mattress. There was enough cooling jizz still pooled at the small of his back to send a trickle of it down along his spine. Cas ran a thumb along the trail, and Dean heard him suck it into his mouth.

“Are you all right, Dean?” the angel's voice was rough, but calming on Dean's nerves.

“Yeah,” he answered a little unsteadily. “I think so?”

Cas stroked his hands over Dean's body, down the muscles of his back, along his ribs, over his hips. “Would you like me to touch you now?”

“God, yes, Cas! Please?”

With a swipe of his palm, Cas gathered up the remaining come on Dean's back to use as lube. When his hand closed over his shaft at last, Dean shuddered and whined wordlessly. Cas coated the length of him and slowly began pumping his cock. His technique was far from perfect, but Dean was so desperate to get off, he couldn't care less.

“Dean,” Cas whispered. “You're so beautiful like this. I could keep you at the edge of orgasm for hours just to see the flush on your skin and the desire in your eyes.”

More pathetic begging noises rolled out of Dean. He strained to drive his hips forward, to fuck himself into Cas's fist, but the angle was awkward. He was left to Cas's whim.

“I want you to tell me something, Dean. Tell me all the things you imagine me doing to you.”

“I-- I--” Dean swallowed hard, trying to wet his throat, dry and raspy from his gasping breaths. “Oh god, Cas. I want-- I want you to fuck me stupid. Finger me open and fuck me so hard I forget my own name. On my hands and knees, or bent over the table, on my back with my knees around my ears, whatever. Make me suck you off, jack me with your wings again, or let me ride you like a fucking roller coaster, I don't care, just please, _please_ , I need you, Castiel.”

The hand that'd been holding Dean's hip moved, and Dean felt one finger pressed gently over his hole, the slight touch driving him plummeting over the edge. “Oh, shit. _Cas!_ ” Dean cried out as his body seized up. White light burst behind his eyes, and tingling shudders wracked his body. Hot ribbons of come spilled over the bed and Cas's hand. When it was done, Dean fell limp with a sob, gasping out Cas's name over and over and over again.

The next thing he knew, Castiel had laid him out on the bed – both he and the bed miraculously free of stickiness or wet spots – and pulled him into an embrace. A very girly one, if Dean cared enough to think about it. Which he didn't. His head was tucked in the cradle of Cas's neck and shoulder, his arm draped across his chest. Cas's arm was wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and the fingers of his other hand stroked Dean's hair, his face, his shoulder. Anything he could reach.

Cas brushed the sweaty hair back and kissed Dean gently on the forehead. As his breathing and heart rate slowly returned to normal, Dean burrowed himself more deeply into the angel's warm embrace as he felt the heaviness of sleep overtaking him.

“I love you, Dean.”

“mmm luvyou...too....”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story went a bit sideways here, so we have some angst, but no smut for the next two chapters.

#### Chapter 6

Dean woke slowly the next morning, his awareness coming in stages. He'd conked out hard last night – his memory was hazy, but there had definitely been an earth shattering orgasm and then bam, oblivion. He realized he must have slept for _hours_ without waking. It was already bright enough outside that the light was leaking in past his eyelids. He felt warm, relaxed, and more well rested than he'd been in... possibly ever. It was fucking awesome.

His hand crawled across the sheets, seeking the warm body beside him. Except there wasn't one.

Raising his head, he cracked his eyes open to confirm. “Cas?”

He was alone.

An uneasy feeling crept over him. Sitting up, he quickly scanned the room, but there was no sign of the angel, not even his clothes.

“What the fuck?” Dean muttered to himself. He rubbed his eyes, then dropped his head and prayed, “Castiel? Where are you, man? Is everything okay? ...Cas?”

Where had he gone? And why wouldn't he answer? He hadn't just _left_ , not after last night. Had he? The sick feeling grew worse, pushing at the back of Dean's throat.

Kicking back the covers, he slid out of bed and pulled on his boxers. It was too goddamn early to think about this. He took in a sharp breath and released it slowly through his nose, shoving aside all the panicky bullshit flying through his head. Cas popped in and out all the time, so his disappearing was probably no big deal. After a quick stop in the bathroom for a piss and a whore bath, Dean dug into his duffel to find some reasonably clean clothes to wear. Thinking this through would definitely require pants.

After he was dressed, his boots tied and gun holstered, he still didn't want to think about it, but his brain wouldn't let it go anymore. Where the _fuck_ was Cas?

A prickling heat began burning under his skin. It crept up his neck and into his face as doubt gnawed at him. Yesterday had really happened, right? It wasn't some weird-ass dream or parallel universe or some asshole prank by Gabriel. Right? He and Cas had actually... done stuff. Together.

He went back into the bathroom and glared into the mirror over the chipped sink. Angling his head, he could see the vibrant hickey Cas had left on his throat – the one Dean distinctly remembered him leaving there. He ran his fingers over the discoloration, and a pain lanced through his chest as if triggered by the touch, but when he tentatively poked at it again, there was no new stab of pain. Just a dull, aching echo of it.

Turning away from his reflection, he stalked out of the bathroom, closed his eyes, and tried praying again. “Hey, Castiel? I don't know what's going on or why you're pulling an Amelia Earhart, but I'm kinda worried, and I just want to know that everything's okay.”

This was ridiculous. Why wasn't he answering?

“Cas! A little hint from Emily Post here: you don't bail on somebody the morning after...everything!” The anxiety that had been plaguing him since he woke was gradually bleeding into anger, which Dean was a whole lot more comfortable dealing with. “Come on, this isn't funny, Cas!”

But the room remained frustratingly angel-free.

“Figures,” Dean grumbled to himself, abandoning the prayers. “Freakin' pointless anyway.”

He snatched up his clothes from yesterday and threw the washables into his duffel and tossed the suit onto the bed to deal with later. He knew this whole thing was too goddamn good to be true. He _knew_ it. Cas had thought himself to be in love, but one night with Dean's fucking _issues_ was enough to send him screaming for the hills. He just fucking knew it.

A horrible weight settled on Dean's chest, crushing the air from his lungs and forcing him to stop what he was doing to focus on pulling in slow, careful breaths. He didn't know if he'd done something specific or if Cas had just finally realized how pathetic he was, but the happiness he'd felt last night and the peace he'd woken up with this morning were gone.

Somehow he'd fucked things up royally, and now he'd lost his best friend.

Clenching his jaw, he reached for his jacket and phone. Fine. He'd lost people before, and he'd survived. He'd survive this, too. He was just fucking fine.

He slipped into the jacket while the phone powered up, then stared down at the device in surprise when the screen lit up like the goddamn Las Vegas Strip.

Shit.

Twelve missed calls and twenty-seven texts from Sam. And one missed call from New Hope General Hospital three hours ago.

_Sam_.

Cold panic clutched at him as he scrambled to bring up the voice mail from the hospital.

“Hello, I'm trying to reach Mr. Dean McCafferty, who is listed as the emergency contact in Sam McCafferty's phone? Sam was brought in to the emergen--”

Dean didn't hear the rest. He was already out the door and piling into Baby, burning rubber as he tore out of the motel's parking lot. The drive was simultaneously the fastest and longest trip he'd ever taken. He screeched to a stop in the first thing resembling a parking space he found in front of the hospital and burst through the doors at a run.

“Where's Sam?” he called to the woman behind the desk as he rushed toward her. “Uh, McCafferty. Sam McCafferty! I got a call – he's my brother.”

With a few clicks of mouse and keyboard, the woman pulled up the information. She peered at the screen through her reading glasses and nodded. “He's stable, but he's still in the ICU.”

_Alive. Sam's alive._

Dean released a sigh of relief that came out as more of a sob. The woman offered to have someone take him to Sam, and he nodded. Everything was a blur as he followed a short man in green scrubs past curtains and beeping monitors until they finally reached Sam's bedside.

As the green garbed man left, a woman in a white lab coat approached. She was older, brown hair graying at the temples, body thickened with middle age. She asked crisply, “You're Mr. McCafferty's family?”

“Dean,” he answered. “Sam's brother. What happened? Will he be okay?”

“I'm Dr. Fisher. We don't know what happened, quite frankly. A driver called 911 after noticing your brother unconscious at the side of the road just outside of town with no indication of how he got there. We're not terribly worried about the bumps and bruises, and he has no broken bones or obvious internal injuries, with the exception of a knock to the head. MRI and CT scans don't show anything out of the ordinary, but he's been unconscious this whole time, which is very concerning.”

“What does that mean? When will he wake up? He's gonna be okay, right?”

The doctor's face got _that look_ , and the cold that had settled over Dean wrapped itself tighter, slithering between all his organs and into the marrow of his bones.

“Mr. McCafferty, head injuries are extremely unpredictable. He might wake up in five minutes or in five years. Or he might not wake up at all. And if he does wake, it's quite possible there's been serious brain damage.”

Dean stared at the doctor in shock. He and Sam had been bashed around by demons, monsters, and ghosts a million times, and they'd always been fine. They'd been _fine_.

“I'm sorry to have to give you such bad news, Mr. McCafferty, but I want you to be prepared.”

He nodded dumbly. “It's Dean. Just Dean.”

Dr. Fisher reached out to give his shoulder a squeeze. “All right, Dean. I was just about to have Sam moved up to a room, so why don't you go ahead and stay with him while I get that arranged. There's no chair here, but you won't have to wait long. Once we get him moved, you'll both be more comfortable.”

“Okay,” Dean answered, only half hearing what she said.

She patted his arm once more and left him there with Sam. Dean moved up as close to the head of the bed as the equipment would allow and wrapped his fingers around Sam's hand, careful not to disturb any of the tubes and needles attached to his baby brother.

“Sam?” he said. He cleared the raspiness from his throat and tried again. “Sammy? It's me, Sam, I'm here.”

He tried to go on, but what the fuck could he possibly say? Tears burned his eyes, and when he blinked, they left scalding trails down his cheeks. This was all his fault. If he hadn't been a selfish asshole, he'd have been with Sam to protect him when this – whatever this was – had happened. But no, he had to be a _prick_ and ignore his brother when he needed him.

And for what? After everything he'd allowed himself to hope for last night, all of it was gone. He laughed bitterly. He supposed he should have seen it coming. Not this situation specifically, but he should know by now that shit never works out. Not for him. His one and only purpose in life was to look out for Sam. Getting distracted from that was what caused this – he got greedy, wanting too much, and now he'd lost Cas for good, and Sam might never wake up.

He squeezed Sam's fingers tighter as more tears pushed their way out. “I'm sorry, Sammy. _Fuck_ , I'm so sorry.”

Two people came past the curtains then, so Dean let go of Sam's hand and quickly wiped the tears away. They detached Sam from most of the equipment, and Dean trailed after them as they transferred him up to a room. The other bed was empty, so it was more or less private, to his relief. As soon as the nurses got Sam all set up again, Dean pulled the chair up to the edge of the bed and reclaimed hid brother's hand.

He talked, hoping his voice would be an anchor for Sam or maybe a beacon he could follow to pull himself out of the dark. He brought up stories from their childhood, funny things that'd happened long ago or awful things that were funny in retrospect. He told a few choice stories from when Sam was away at Stanford that he'd never gotten around to telling before. He even talked about the few clear memories he still had of their mom.

But Sam didn't wake. He didn't move or react in any way, either to Dean's voice or to the hand holding his.

“Sammy, come on, man. Please, just wake up.”

Dean wasn't above begging. He bowed his head and forced himself to ask for help. Surely Cas wouldn't let Sam suffer for Dean's stupidity. “Castiel? I know this is probably the last thing you want to hear, but I need you, man. Sam's hurt, and it's not looking so good. Please, I need you to come heal him.”

Opening his eyes, he craned his neck to scan the room, but they were still alone. The stab of pain that had cut through him this morning returned, but this time it lingered, making his whole chest hurt. His throat closed and more tears welled, but he was beyond giving a shit.

He stayed there for hours, leaving only briefly to use the bathroom and to get coffee. Each time he came back, he had a spark of hope that Sam would be awake and fine when he arrived, but each time, Sam remained unconscious, and the spark was smothered.

One of the nurses who'd come in to check on Sam's IV had just left when Dean finally heard the familiar rustle of wings.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said.

“Cas--” Dean cut off in surprise as he spun to face him. The angel was a wreck – his hair disheveled, his clothing in disarray, and it looked like he'd been rolling in the dirt. He was breathing hard, apparently from a fight since he was tucking away his angel blade.

“Are you okay? What the hell happened to you?” Dean demanded, reaching out to straighten Cas's hair without thinking, but he stopped himself at the last second.

Cas shook his head. “No time. I came as soon as I could. What happened to Sam?”

Dean hesitated, but Sam's need won out. “No idea. He was brought in like this. Will you heal him?”

Stepping past Dean, Cas touched two fingers to Sam's forehead. He closed his eyes, but then frowned. “Something's wrong,” he muttered.

Fear replaced the tangled mess of other feelings. “What do you mean 'wrong?'”

Holding up his other hand to quiet Dean, Cas tilted his head as he focused on Sam. As Dean watched, the scrapes and bruises on Sam's face and arms faded, but Cas didn't pull away, instead scrunching his face up even more as he concentrated.

Finally, he released a heavy breath and took his fingers from Sam's forehead. He was still frowning, and every alarm bell that wasn't already ringing in Dean's head joined the clamoring.

“Cas?” he prodded.

“What did this to him?” Cas asked.

“How the fuck should I know?” Dean snapped. “I wasn't with him; I was with _you_.”

Cas blinked, thrown by Dean's anger.

Dean shook his head and pressed on, “Why? What's wrong with him?”

Eyeing Dean cautiously, Cas answered, “Nothing, physically. The problem is with his soul. It seems to have been... folded in on itself somehow. I've healed his physical injuries and eased his soul free as much as I'm able. I cannot heal him completely, but I believe he'll wake on his own soon enough.”

Hope and relief bloomed in Dean's chest. “He'll be okay?”

“He should be, yes. Given time, he would likely have recovered on his own, but the process should be quicker now.”

Dean's shoulders sagged as he heaved a huge sigh. “Oh, thank fuck.”

“Now I have to get back,” Cas said.

“Whoa, wait!” Dean reached out to catch his arm before he could take off. “You're leaving?”

Cas huffed impatiently. “Dean, I shouldn't have come here at all.”

“Right.” Dean snatched his hand back. “Forget it. Doesn't matter.”

The tension that'd been thrumming through Cas's body seemed to shift as he focused on Dean. His head tipped slightly as he squinted at him. “Is something wrong?”

Dean looked away and shook his head. “Nope.”

“Dean.”

“What?” he snapped back. “Everything's hunky damn dory! So go on – run off to wherever the fuck you disappear to, and have a nice life. Everything's just fucking fine here without you.”

Cas froze, staring at him like he was nuts. “Dean?”

The anger suddenly dissipated, and all Dean felt was hurt. “Never mind, Cas. I get it. I know I'm a big fucking disappointment – I always am. It's fine if you've changed your mind.”

“Why would you think I changed my mind?” Cas asked slowly.

Dean threw his hands out. “You _left!_ You left without a word and wouldn't answer me. I can take a hint, Cas!”

White fire blazed in Castiel's eyes as he crossed the narrow space between them and took Dean's face in his hands. Dean yelped in surprise, but it was muffled as Cas crushed his lips to Dean's possessively, delving into his mouth with a forceful tongue. Dean clutched at the angel's overcoat to keep his balance.

Cas pulled back. “Then take this hint, Dean Winchester. I love you. I want you. I will never leave you. I may occasionally need to attend to things elsewhere as I need to now, but I will _never_ leave you. Last night I didn't wake you because I didn't want to disturb your sleep, though I realize now that I misjudged the situation. I apologize for hurting you.” His eyes softened as he gazed at Dean. “I love you.”

Dean's head was reeling from the kiss and the angel's declaration. “You do?” It was half a question, half an exclamation of wonder.

Cas touched their foreheads together, never breaking eye contact. “Of course I do. Always.”

Stupid, embarrassing tears stung the backs of Dean's eyes. He let go of Cas's coat and wrapped his arms around him instead, holding him as tightly as he could and burying his face against his neck. Cas held him and murmured reassuring words into his ear.

Finally, Dean's grip slackened, and Cas eased back a little. “Dean, I _have_ to go. I'm needed now, but I'll return as soon as possible. All right?”

“I'm sorry, Cas. I should've trusted you.”

“Yes, you should have,” Cas teased as he traced his fingers along Dean's jaw. Catching his chin, he pulled Dean up to meet his eyes. “Do not doubt me. I'll be back soon.”

Dean nodded, and Cas released him to take a step back.

“I love you, Dean.”

That weird-ass happy feeling returned, swelling Dean's chest and squeezing a smile out of him. Cas looked at him for a long, expectant moment before finally disappearing in a swirl of air.

Still staring at the place where Cas had just been, Dean sank down into the chair at the head of Sam's bed, almost afraid to believe this horrible day had turned around so completely. He grinned.

Cas loved him.

And Sam was going to be okay.

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Dean?”

The scratchy sound was barely more than a whisper, but it startled Dean straight out of his doze. He shot up from where he'd been slouching in the chair to find that Sam's eyes were open and focused on him, but only just.

“Sam?” Dean gripped his brother's hand, probably too tightly to be comfortable, but he didn't want Sam slipping back into unconsciousness. “Sammy? Are you all right?”

Sam nodded faintly, as if even that much movement were a monumental effort. “Think so,” he mumbled.

“Hang on, I'm gonna go get the doc,” Dean told him before hustling down the hall to the nurses' station and letting them know Sam was awake.

A few minutes later, Dr. Fisher joined them in the room, poking and prodding at Sam, shining lights in his eyes, and asking him questions. By the time she was done, Sam seemed to be more alert but still weak. She finally announced that they were going to do a few more tests just in case, and he had to stay overnight for observation, but overall he seemed to be fine.

“You're a lucky man, Mr. McCafferty,” she told him with a smile. “Now personally, I'm not one to believe in miracles, but this is about as close as I've ever seen. I'm very glad to see you awake, Sam.”

Sam gave her a tired smile in return. “Thanks. Me, too.”

The doctor left them alone, and Sam's smile faded.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Dean hissed, “Dude, you scared the shit out of me. What the hell happened?”

“The Woman in White. I went to torch her.” Sam sighed, clearly expecting a lecture.

“Dammit, Sam! What were you thinking going out there by yourself?”

Sam glared. “Screw you, Dean. I had to.” He fumbled at the bed railing to find the button to sit him up a bit. “You didn't answer your phone, you dick.”

“And what – you couldn't have waited until morning? She could've killed you!” Dean snapped.

“Matter of fact, _Dean_ , I couldn't wait. I found a pattern in the old papers at the library – seven kills over seven days every twenty years exactly. Had to gank her before midnight or we'd lose her for another twenty years.”

“Well...” Dean's argument died on his tongue as guilt reared up and sucker punched him in the gut. His fault. This was all his fault. “What the hell did she do to you, anyway? Doesn't sound like any Woman in White I've ever heard of.”

With a slight shake of his head, Sam answered, “She wasn't one – not really. I think she was a witch when she was alive. There were spells carved into her casket and all kinds of creepy-ass stuff inside with her body. Whatever she was, she could do things I've never seen before. I got her all dug up, covered in salt, and lit on fire, but the bitch just would not die. I fought her off for a while, but she finally chased me down and did... something, I don't know what, but it hurt like a bitch. Last thing I saw before I passed out, she had her hands _in_ my chest, and then  poof – she went up in smoke. Bones must've finally burned enough to kill her before she killed me.”

Exhausted from so much talking, he fell back into the pillow, pale and shaky.

“Okay, Sam, just take it easy. You're gonna be fine.”

Sam's face went stony, and he turned away to face the wall. The guilt gouged at Dean some more.

“Sammy,” Dean began, but then floundered. Apologies never came easily, but Sam didn't wait for one.

“Just leave it, Dean. I don't want to hear it. Look, I know you feel bad because I got hurt, but you know what? Sometimes you should feel bad just for being an asshole.”

All the air left Dean's lungs, and he couldn't seem to draw any back in. He already knew it was true, but that didn't make it hurt any less to hear. He _was_ an asshole, and he deserved every bit of Sam's anger. He deserved a lot worse than that.

“I'm sorry, Sam,” he said softly. “I--”

“Yeah, you're sorry. Whatever. You know, I was at the library for five hours? I busted my ass, while you went out looking for a hook up. And then when I called you for help, you wouldn't answer. Why? Because you were too goddamn busy railing some sleazy barfly.”

“I wasn't...” Dean trailed off and kept his eyes firmly on the floor.

Sam scoffed. “Right. Huge hickey on your neck, but you weren't banging some girl.”

Dean tugged the collar of his flannel up and swallowed hard. He'd wussed out on the phone yesterday – he couldn't do it again today, even if he was kind of afraid of Sam's reaction. But if he didn't have balls enough to own it, he shouldn't get to have it. “I was with Cas.”

“Well, then why the hell'd you call a Code White?”

“It _was_ a Code White,” Dean said, looking back up again to hold Sam's eyes, his stomach twisting with nerves.

The moment Sam put the pieces together was obvious and at any other time would have been hilarious – his expression went from super pissed to gaping goldfish in half an instant.

“Code White. You and Cas,” he repeated, clearly not sure he'd heard Dean right. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Really?”

Dean gave a helpless sort of shrug. “Yeah.”

“Dude...”

Dean looked away again. He didn't think he could stand seeing Sam look at him in disappointment or disgust. Sure, the guy was all in favor of gay rights, yadda yadda, but shit might be a whole lot different when it was his own brother.

“So, is this...new?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled. “It just sort of happened.”

“Huh.” The noise Sam made was a mix of surprise and amusement.

Dean frowned and demanded, “What?”

Sam raised his hands innocently, even though he couldn't move them very far with the tubes and wires attached. “Nothing! Just a little unexpected is all. I assumed you weren't interested – I mean, Cas has been mooning over you forever.”

“Excuse me?” That came out as more of a squeak than Dean would ever admit to.

The incredulous look on Sam's face told Dean he must be the stupidest person on the planet. “Uh, _yeah_. Even you can't be that oblivious.”

Dean felt a blush heating his skin. “Shut up.”

“Seriously? How could you not realize he's head over heels for you? Even if you were straight as an arrow, you should've seen _that_. I mean, jeez.”

The blush progressed into a full blown wildfire on his face. “ _'Even if'?_ What's that supposed to mean?”

“Dean, come on. I've known you're...heteroflexible since we were teenagers. I'm not blind. And you aren't exactly subtle.”

Stunned, Dean dropped into the chair by the bed. Sam knew? Dean had only had a few rushed encounters with male partners before – a quick blow job in a bar bathroom or maybe a handy in the parking lot. It wasn't something he went looking for, but occasionally it happened. But he'd thought he'd kept it on the down low.

Sam put a hand on the bed rail to get his attention. “You know I'm fine with that, right?” he offered softly.

Dean looked up at Sam's earnest expression, and a weight seemed to lift from him. “Oh. Um, thanks..?”

“It's no big deal, Dean.” Sam paused. “So, you and Cas, huh? Are you guys, like, a thing now?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Dean tried to play it down, but an idiotic grin sneaked out anyway.

A less idiotic grin spread across Sam's face. “Cool. New rules, though. You guys get your own room on the opposite side of the motel from me. I don't want to hear it, and I sure as hell don't want to see it.”

“Aw, Sammy, you're no fun.”

“And no PDA, either.”

Dean made a rude noise, but didn't actually have any objections.

“And you should re-think the hickeys. Doesn't really scream FBI, does it?”

“Shut up.” He covered the bruise with one hand self-consciously. Maybe he really should talk to Cas about not leaving visible marks. A shiver ran through him as he thought about all the places he might leave them instead.

“I'm happy for you, Dean, I really am. But none of this means I'm not still pissed as hell at you for ditching me last night.”

The grin faded from Dean's face as the guilt crushed down on him again. “I know.”

A while later, a woman wearing scrubs with kittens on them came to take Sam for some more scans and tests or whatever medical voodoo they do, so Dean went down to get more coffee and a sandwich in the cafeteria. Now that Sam was awake and he knew things with Cas were good, he was freaking starving. What he could really use was a beer, but he was S.O.L. on that.

After he ate, he wandered back to Sam's room. His brother was back in bed and seemed to be dozing, so Dean parked himself in his chair again.

But apparently, Sam wasn't completely asleep. “Hey, Dean. Was Cas here earlier?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Did he heal me?”

Okay, now Dean's curiosity was piqued. “He did what he could, but he said he couldn't fix everything. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering,” Sam said. “I kind of remember him being there, but more like a feeling than a memory, you know? Like a... comforting presence, I guess.”

A little flare of jealousy sprang up in Dean's gut. “Hmm,” he grunted in acknowledgment. “He said your soul was all mashed in on itself, but you'd have to un-Rubik's Cube it yourself.”

“Weird,” Sam observed, then blindsided Dean with, “Do you love him?”

“What?”

“Castiel. Do you love him?” Sam repeated.

Now it was Dean's turn to do the goldfish impression. “I-- What? Why the hell would you ask me that?”

Sam leveled a serious glare his way. “Because Cas loves you, jerk, and if you break his heart, I'll kick your ass from here to next Thursday.”

Indignant, Dean squawked, “Hey! You just mind your own damn business. I'm not talking about this with you.”

“I'm just saying.”

“Well, just shut up.”

Dean slouched back into his chair, outwardly sulking, but inside was having a private panic attack. Did he love Cas? Like, _love_ him? He'd been trying so hard not to put any labels on any of this. Don't people say that naming something gives it power? If he named what he felt for Cas 'love', then that left him vulnerable, and he freaking hated that.

But then again, when he thought he'd lost Cas earlier, that had felt an awful lot like heartbreak. Maybe it was too late. Maybe it didn't matter whether or not he called it love, because he was vulnerable all the same.

Dean was so lost in his thoughts, it startled him when Sam yawned massively.

Standing and picking up his jacket, Dean said, “Hey, visiting hours are almost up. I should go and let you get some rest.”

Sam already looked half asleep. “See you in the morning?”

“Yep, bright and early. Then we'll blow this popsicle stand.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

Twenty-five minutes later, Dean was back at the motel and pacing trenches into the carpet. He knew he should be looking for a new case since this one was a done deal, but he was too anxious. When Cas had shown up at the hospital, he'd clearly been smack in the middle of a fight. Other than being in a hurry, he hadn't sounded overly concerned about it, but Dean hadn't heard anything from him since and was starting to worry.

Maybe Cas just thought Dean was still with Sam and didn't want to be interrupted.

“Cas, you got your ears on?” Dean prayed. “Sam's awake and doing well. He's at the hospital overnight. I'm back at the motel now, so when you're done with your angel stuff...come see me? Let me know you're okay. Um. Amen.”

He didn't expect an immediate answer and didn't get one, so he decided to take a shower to kill some time. Afterward, dressed in a clean T-shirt and pair of jeans, he flopped onto his bed with a beer, settling in for some serious channel surfing. No show was too crappy to sample as he distracted himself from worrying about Cas.

He must have eventually fallen asleep because some action movie gunfire and explosions startled him awake. On the screen were John McClane and Hans Gruber. _Die Hard._ Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker.

And an instant later, he realized Castiel stood nearby, nearly invisible in the dark room, his head at an angle as he watched Dean.

A sarcastic comment about the creep-factor died on Dean's tongue as Cas's appearance registered on his eyeballs. “Whoa, are you okay?”

He muted Bruce Willis, then got up quickly and gripped Cas's shoulders, examining him in the flickering light from the television. The angel looked ready to drop from exhaustion. He was even more of a mess than he'd been this afternoon, with blood from several small wounds mixed in with the dirt and grime from before.

“Are you hurt? Like, bad-hurt?” Dean asked.

Cas's balance wavered as he shook his head. “No.”

“What happened?”

“Demons. A great many of them.” Cas blinked heavily. “They killed three of my brothers, but the demons are all dead now. The incursion was stopped before much damage was done.”

An unpleasant feeling twinged in Dean's gut. He couldn't even bring himself to care what these demons had been up to. Despite knowing Cas was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, a part of Dean always worried about him when he was gone on angel business. And hearing that three other just-as-capable-as-Cas angels had been killed only made it worse.

He ran gentle fingers through Cas's hair, taming it a little, but mostly reassuring himself that the angel was here with him now. He was fine. Safe. Having to wait uselessly on the sidelines really sucked ass.

Maybe he couldn't protect Cas all the time, but he sure as hell could take care of him now. Tugging at the bedraggled overcoat, Dean eased Cas out of it and his suit jacket before guiding him to the end of the bed to sit down.

“Stay put,” he told him before disappearing into the bathroom and returning with a dampened washcloth.

As he looked over Cas's cuts and scrapes, he felt another pang. They weren't healing. The fight must have totally depleted Cas's batteries.

“Dean, you needn't see to my injuries. They're minor. After some rest, I'll regain my strength, and I can return my vessel to its previous condition.”

“Cas,” Dean said softly, cupping the angel's cheek to meet his eyes. “Let me do this.”

After a quiet moment, Cas acquiesced, allowing Dean to remove his tie and unbutton his shirt. Careful not to prod any of the small wounds too deeply, Dean washed away the blood and dirt with slow strokes of the cloth, acutely aware of Cas's eyes on him as he worked. He tried to ignore the flush of heat the gaze brought to his skin and instead focused on taking care of the battered angel.

He went back to the bathroom repeatedly to rinse out the washcloth, but gradually he washed the dirt away. Dean peeled off Cas's dress shirt and tossed it to the floor. Beneath it, there was more blood to clean up, but not so much dirt, so it went quickly. He pulled Cas to his feet and unfastened his torn and filthy slacks, letting them fall to the floor. Dean nudged Cas to sit him back down, then knelt to pull off his shoes and socks and untangle the pants from around his ankles.

Dean rested his hands on Cas's thighs, and as he looked up into the angel's face, his breath caught in his chest. How many times now had he imagined himself here – on his knees in front of Castiel? Obviously Cas was in no condition to...do stuff yet, but just thinking about it gave Dean shivers.

Cas reached out and slowly ran his fingers through the short hair at the top of Dean's head. Then, cradling Dean's face between his hands, he leaned down to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Thank you, Dean,” he murmured in that deep, graveled voice of his that set Dean's insides humming. And the expression on Cas's face...

Dean went all gooey from that look – the tenderness there, the love. Face flushing with pleasure, he ducked his head, and as he glanced down, he realized Cas's cock was definitely stirring beneath his boxers. Raising his eyes, Dean saw that the cuts and abrasions on Cas's skin were slowly closing up and beginning to fade. Maybe Cas felt well enough to do stuff after all.

Sliding his palms a little farther up Cas's thighs, Dean massaged circles into the angel's skin, teasing just under the bottom edge of his boxers with his thumbs. “So, how're you feeling?” he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Cas closed his eyes and made a soft sound in his throat that only encouraged the rapid swelling of Dean's dick.

“I feel...tired. And aroused,” he rumbled. He opened his lids and pinned Dean with blazing blue eyes. “I would like for you to pleasure me.”

Caught halfway between finding that incredibly hot and incredibly dorky, Dean choked out, “Oh my god, Cas. Don't say it like that.”

“Why not? Should I not be direct? It's what I want.”

Put like that, Dean really couldn't find a reason to argue, plus he rapidly found the scales tipping in favor of 'incredibly hot'. “You know what? I was wrong. Coming from you, it works.” He flashed a grin, but it slipped away slowly under Cas's molten stare.

Dean surged up to kiss him, open-mouthed and messy as hell. He rubbed his hands up Cas's thighs, then around to the back to catch the waistband of his boxers, stripping them down in one pull. He backed away only far enough to drag the underwear over Cas's knees and off his feet, flinging them to the side before claiming Cas's mouth again.

He'd never have believed Cas only learned how to do this yesterday. Maybe angels were quick studies, or maybe Cas was just some kind of sex prodigy. Either way, it was fucking awesome.

Dean pulled back to gasp for air and took the opportunity to ogle the naked angel before him. “So freaking gorgeous,” he muttered almost to himself as his eyes roved over the glorious expanse of tanned skin, sleek muscle, and his luscious, swollen cock.

Leaning back in, he laved his tongue up the column of Cas's throat, ending just below his jaw where he paused to suckle the skin, wet and sloppy. The groan that rumbled out of Cas vibrated against Dean's lips and tongue. Fuck, knowing that _he_ caused those sounds to come from the angel was easily as hot as the noises themselves.

“Dean...”

Oh, shit – even better than the moans, the sound of his name rolling from Cas's lips urged his already roused cock to immediate, aching hardness. “Cas,” he breathed against the angel's throat. “Fuck, Cas, do that again. Say it again. Please!”

Cas curled a hand around the back of Dean's neck and brought his lips close to his ear. “You like when I say your name?”

Dean nodded, still kissing and sucking at Cas's throat.

The fingers at his neck tightened ever so slightly, and Dean gasped as that sent a scalding flare of arousal through him like liquid fire. Cas murmured, “What was that? I could not hear you.”

“Yes! Fuck, yes,” Dean whimpered against Cas's skin. The humid heat of his own breath made his face flush. He nuzzled under the angel's jaw with lips and teeth.

“Mmmm, Dean,” Cas groaned. God, he made it sound so _filthy_.

His fingers relaxed at the back of Dean's neck and slid up to scratch lightly over his scalp, triggering an eruption of gooseflesh. Dean shivered at the tingles, and struggled to keep his focus. He was supposed to be the one pleasuring Cas, after all.

While his hands kneaded into the flesh of his thighs and hips, Dean worked his way back down Cas's throat, dipped his tongue into the hollow between his collar bones, then dropped lower to close his lips over one of Cas's nipples and suck. With a ragged inhale, Cas threw his head back and cried, “Ohhh, Dean!”

Smirking against Cas's chest, Dean continued teasing the stiffened nipple with his lips and tongue. “So sensitive,” he crooned between licks and tugs. “So fucking sexy.”

Cas cried out again when Dean licked his way across to his other nipple. The angel's breath came in throaty little pants, and when Dean glanced down, he could see Cas's cock leaking pre-come. Dean's own cock twitched, encased in his uncomfortably tight jeans. But somehow that was arousing as fuck, too, being fully dressed in stiff denim with Cas splayed naked in front of him, expectant and waiting for Dean to please him.

He pushed Cas's knees farther apart and drew back, pausing to take a long look at the reddened cock resting thick between his legs – full and flush and dripping, and it was fucking gorgeous. Dean massaged his thumbs back up Cas's inner thighs, working closer to his goal. Cas watched him from beneath heavy lids, his lips parted and slack around his panting breaths.

“Dean,” he uttered, desire turning his voice into a broken mess. “I need-- Dean--”

Kissing his way up one thigh, Dean let his breath brush over Cas's sensitive head as he murmured, “I know.” Wrapping a hand around the base, he took Cas's cock into his mouth. A musky tang suffused his tongue, and his nose filled with the rich, dizzying scent of Cas. He moaned even as he pulled him deeper in.

Cas choked out a sound that might have been Dean's name, but it was impossible to tell. His legs spread wider and he leaned back, pressing into the bed as he arched upward. Dean held his hips down, and though there was no way he could actually hold him in place, Cas allowed Dean to guide him, trembling with the effort to remain still.

Dean felt his cheeks heat again and his cock throbbed at the straight up pornographic sounds Cas made. Such lewd noises coming from an _angel_ – goddamn, that was going to kill him. Death by hotness. He could handle that.

He pulled up and gave a wet swirl of his tongue around the head of Cas's cock before sinking back down, sliding his lips over the velvety skin of his shaft until he felt it at the back of his throat. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he fought to stay deep. One of Cas's hands came up to rest at the crown of his head. He didn't push him down on his cock, but it still encouraged Dean to keep going.

When he was sure he wouldn't choke, he hollowed his cheeks and sucked in surging pulses, working Cas's length with the flat of his tongue. He slid his hand up from the jut of Cas's hipbone up to find a nipple and pinch the bud firmly.

Immediately, Cas's whole body stiffened beneath him, and he gasped in a harsh breath. “ _Deeeean!_ ” The word deteriorated into a keening cry as come erupted into Dean's mouth, over his tongue and down his throat.

He swallowed as quickly as he could, determined not to lose any, and milked Cas's cock for every drop even as he writhed and moaned beneath him. When Cas's cries turned to shaky, rasping breaths, and he drooped down onto his elbows on the mattress, Dean let his wilting dick slip free and lapped it clean. Then he moved on to peppering his belly and inner thighs with kisses, butterfly light and teasing. Cas shivered and groaned low in his throat.

Dean looked up, reveling in the bliss on the angel's face, proud that he'd been the one to put it there. Cas opened his eyes, blinking heavily down at Dean. He reached down to stroke a hand over Dean's hair and trail his fingers back along his jaw.

Rubbing a thumb over Dean's lower lip, Cas quirked a dreamy half smile. “Your mouth,” he mumbled. “Amazing. So beautiful, Dean.”

Flushing half in embarrassment, half in pleasure, Dean shrugged one shoulder. He grinned. “Good, then?”

A spark of fire flashed in Cas's tired eyes. He leaned forward, pulling Dean in by the back of his neck, and kissed him thoroughly, showing him just how much he'd liked it. “So good,” he murmured sleepily after pulling away just far enough to speak.

Dean's cock throbbed uncomfortably in the confines of his jeans. It would have to wait, though. Cas's cuts were healed now, but he still looked like he was about to keel over from exhaustion. Or from being high as a kite on post-orgasm endorphins.

“Come on,” he said, dragging Cas up and steering him to the bedside. He pulled the covers back. “I think it might be nap time.”

A tiny scowl marred Cas's face. It had to be the most adorable thing Dean had ever seen. “I don't sleep. Nap time is unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary, maybe, but you'll like it anyway,” Dean insisted. He peeled off his T-shirt and tossed it to the floor.

“I see.” Cas crawled into bed. “Very well. We can nap.”

Dean stripped off the rest of his clothes and, ignoring his erection, slid into bed – his side of the bed, he remembered with a bit of a grin. He pulled the angel against him so his head rested comfortably on his shoulder. Cas slipped his arm around Dean's middle and nuzzled into him, the scritchiness of his stubble sending shivers rippling over Dean's skin.

“See? This is nice, right? Feels good to rest and relax?”

With a drowsy hum, Cas agreed.

Dean combed his fingers through Cas's hair, rubbing his scalp and tugging lightly at the dark strands. He closed his eyes and sighed. “I'm glad you're going to be okay. I was worried about you.”

Cas didn't budge from where he was plastered against him, but asked, “Why?”

Dean gave a bit of a snort. “Why do you think, Cas? Because you were in a big-ass fight, and I didn't know what was happening.”

“I'm fine.”

“But I didn't know that. What if something happened to you? How would I even know? You just...wouldn't come back, and I'd--” Dean cut off, biting his lip hard. Shit. He hadn't meant to get himself all upset, but he'd gone and done it anyway. Dammit, he sounded like a big whiny crybaby.

He forced a reassuring smile onto his face, even though Cas couldn't see it.

“Never mind. Just get some rest,” he said. But there was no response. “Cas?”

Craning his neck a little, he could see that Cas was totally zonked out. Damn. He must've been even more wiped out than Dean had realized. Gazing down at the sleeping angel with his dark lashes and his pretty pink mouth, the warm feeling from before returned to fill Dean's chest.

Goddammit, he really did love Cas, didn't he?

 


	9. Chapter 9

When Dean woke a few hours later, it was fully dark outside, and the TV was still on and muted: Bruce Willis and Samuel L. Jackson in a helicopter. _Die Hard with a Vengeance_. Yippe-ki-yay, motherfucker.

Their positions had reversed while he'd slept. Dean was now curled up against Cas with an arm and a leg thrown over him, and his nose practically in the angel's armpit. Cas's fingers trailed over the skin of his arm and shoulder in hypnotic strokes, and that soft, gooey expression was back on his face – Dean didn't think he'd ever get used to it being directed his way, but he had to admit he kinda liked it.

"Hello, Dean."

A little girly-ass butterfly went nuts in Dean's belly at hearing that goddamn sexy gravelly morning voice wrapped around his name. "Hey, Cas. Feeling better?"

"Yes, Dean." Fucking butterflies. "My grace has fully recovered. Thank you for caring for me while I was incapacitated."

A smile pulled at the corner of Dean's mouth. "No big deal," he replied with a one-shouldered shrug.

Cas's brows drew together slightly. "Yes, big deal," he corrected him. "The care you show for others is one of the many reasons I love you."

Dean felt his cheeks heat, and he huffed air through his nose in private disagreement. He didn't find it particularly noteworthy or admirable to look out for the people you loved – that's just part of the job. What he did was nothing special.

Cas's hand came to rest on Dean's jaw, drawing his gaze up to meet his own. "I understand that you're uncomfortable verbalizing your feelings, so you express them through your actions. When you take care of me as you did, you're telling me I'm important to you. Is that not true?"

The flickering light from the television sapped the color from Cas's eyes, but not the intensity. He nodded mutely. Of course Cas was important to him.

"Then that's what I'm thanking you for. Not just for tending to my injuries, but for the reason you did so as well." A faint smile graced the angel's lips. "Knowing that you care for me makes me very happy, Dean."

"Oh," Dean responded dumbly. Words were hard. "Um. Good."

Even though his pupils were already wide in the dim room, Cas's eyes darkened more as he studied Dean's face, and his smile turned a little predatory. "And I wish to take care of _you_ now. To express the depth of my feelings for you."

The butterflies were now trying to fight their way up and out, and Dean had to swallow them down. "Uhhh, okay?"

Cas leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips, then trailed tiny nuzzling kisses over his jaw and down his throat, speaking a few words between each one. "You're beautiful, Dean. So beautiful. Amazing."

"Cas..." Dean couldn't help but protest. Cas only said shit like that because he saw him through the lens of his love rather than how he truly was.

"You are, Dean. You're perfect, just as you are. You're loyal. Kind. Selfless. Fierce. A warrior."

Dean's eyes fluttered closed under the delicate assault. The things Cas said made him feel uncomfortable, self-conscious. But at the same time, Cas's lips on his skin felt so good, all he could think about was that. Paired together, the confusing, conflicting reactions melded together, and he couldn't differentiate cause from effect.

Cas's strong hands began roving, kneading into the flesh of his hip and thigh. "You're strong, Dean, yet you allow yourself to be vulnerable with me, which is...profound. And extremely arousing."

Arousing. Hell, yes, it was arousing. _Everything_ about Cas was arousing. As Cas licked and nibbled his way over his throat, Dean got swept away in a strange sort of high. Cas's words, his praise for him – instead of discomfort or embarrassment, Dean only felt pleasure.

Gently shifting Dean to his back, Cas straddled his body without stopping the dizzying flurry of kisses and praise.

"Caaaas," Dean groaned. Rolling his head back into the pillow, he closed his eyes and let himself drown in the incredible sensations – the touches and kisses, the feeling of Cas's approval and acceptance, and most of all, his love.

Dean's cock, neglected in their prior go-around, thickened and throbbed urgently. He rocked his hips up against Cas, and the friction only drove his mindless bliss higher, giving a sharp edge to his need. But when Dean reached to pull him closer, Cas caught his wrists and pressed them back against the mattress.

"Impatient," Cas added pointedly to the ever-growing list of his qualities, though Dean was pretty sure it wasn't meant as praise. "There's no hurry, Dean. I intend to take my time with you."

Still holding Dean's wrists, Cas leaned close, trailing his tongue along the curve of his ear before closing his lips on his earlobe and suckling it. Dean squirmed ineffectively against Cas's hold.

"Be still," Cas admonished, and without thinking, Dean did as he was told.

Cas's hands traveled down from his wrists, caressing the lines of his forearms, his biceps, his shoulders. As his hands moved over his chest and down, his mouth followed, tongue tasting every curve and hollow on the way. Dean's breath came in quavering gasps. When Cas kept right on moving south, Dean's foggy brain finally registered what he was doing – where he was headed with that beautiful mouth.

"Oh, shit. Cas. Caaaas..." He cut off with an undignified squeak when the angel touched a tentative tongue to the head of his cock.

Cas mouthed gently along his shaft, the touch so light it was maddening. Then he increased the pressure, flattening his tongue and licking Dean's full length. Cas looked up at him with eyes gone dark with lust and lips slick with spit, demanding Dean's attention. This was even better than fantasy-Cas. Better than anything ever.

Cas nuzzled over his length, his lips grazing the sensitive skin. He ran his tongue over the tip, lapping up the beaded pre-come. Dean shuddered and his cock twitched in Cas's hand. At the slight movement, Cas gave a small smile and licked at it again.

Still meeting his eyes, Cas closed his mouth around Dean's aching dick. Throwing his head back with a ragged gasp, Dean lost track of everything but wet heat, suction, and the feverish need consuming him. "Oh, _fuck_ , Cas!"

Cas sank down on Dean's cock until his nose was right up against the trimmed hair at the base, and his throat closed around the head. Dean bucked upward, but Cas's hands at his hips prevented him from inadvertently trying to fuck his mouth. Cas worked his dick over, experimenting with technique until Dean hovered right at the verge. Tension coiled inside him, and his balls tightened in anticipation...and then Cas pulled away.

Dean released a sobbing cry, denied the orgasm that was so close. "Cas, _please!_ "

A teasing tongue ran along the underside of his aching shaft, clever fingers toyed with his sac. "I told you I would take my time," Cas murmured as he began massaging Dean's thighs. "Seeing you so lost in the pleasure that I bring you is extremely stimulating."

He crawled back up Dean's body to drop soft kisses on his lips. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once. Dean whimpered and squirmed. It all felt so good, but he needed – _needed_ – more. "Please, Cas, I want- I want..."

Cas's lips burned as they brushed over the shell of his ear. "What do you want, Dean? You told me what you wanted before. Do you remember? I do."

Dean could only whine wordlessly – he didn't have two thoughts to rub together anymore.

Sucking at Dean's earlobe again, Cas hummed low in his chest. "You asked me to 'fuck you stupid' – to fuck you so hard you forget your own name."

_Too late_ , Dean thought wildly.

A gentle hand held his chin, and his eyes flew open to find Cas's face hovering inches above his own, cast in flickering shadow in the uneven light from the television. "Do you want that, Dean?"

He whimpered and nodded faintly. "Yeah," he croaked, knowing Cas wanted an answer. "Yeah..."

Cas smiled, and it was beautiful.

"Dean," he rumbled. "I'll need your help. I need you to tell me exactly what to do."

Clarity settled over Dean's thoughts at that, not diminishing his pleasure, but definitely focusing his attention. As amazing as Cas was, he was still brand new to all this, and was relying on Dean to guide him.

Plus... Dean hadn't ever actually done this before, and suddenly the reality of _exactly_ what Cas was proposing sank in. A shiver rippled over his skin as he thought about Cas bending him over the table and fucking him raw. His skin flushed and his cock oozed pre-come at the idea, but the truth was, he was as new to this as Cas. His few encounters with men had never involved fucking anything other than fists or mouths.

"Okay, right." He took a calming breath and nodded. "Prep. We need lube. Hang on..." he muttered, slithering out from under Cas and crawling half off the bed to reach his duffel bag on the floor. He snarled at it when the zipper hung up, then again when he couldn't find what he was looking for right away. He fished around until his fingers finally closed over a small, half empty bottle of lube.

Climbing back up, he pressed the bottle into Cas's palm. "Okay. Confession time. I've never done this part before, but I know the basics. At least in theory. But there'll be a certain amount of winging it."

Cas nodded seriously. "How do we begin?"

"With stretching and lots of lube." Dean paused, considering the options. He turned over and propped himself on his elbows and knees. It left him feeling very...exposed. "Just start with one finger and go slow. I'll let you know when I'm ready for more."

The flush in his face worsened when Cas didn't immediately reply. He felt vulnerable and embarrassed with his ass on display like this, and he desperately hoped Cas would hurry up and get on with it.

Dean flinched when Cas's hand came to rest on his hip.

"It's all right, Dean." The hand rubbed soothingly over the curve of Dean's ass. "You know I would never hurt you."

Releasing a slow breath, Dean tried to relax. Of course Cas would take care of him. And he wanted this. He did. A lot. But his nerves might kill him before it ever happened. "Okay."

The reassuring strokes on his skin paused, and Dean heard the lube bottle snap open. A moment later, the hand returned to his cheek, smoothing circles into his flesh. He struggled to keep calm but still jumped when a gentle finger traced along his crack. Cas murmured to him, quietly comforting him with low Enochian rumblings as the hand on his ass cheek continued kneading.

Eventually, Dean relaxed a little. As soon as he did, the finger narrowed its focus, rubbing gently over his hole without penetrating. The sensation on his rim felt shockingly good, if strange, and any new tension quickly bled away. Cas pressed and teased at him, generously spreading the lube over his puckered entrance.

The pressure increased, and finally, Cas's fingertip breached his rim. Dean gasped in a breath and fought to keep from tensing up again. Cas stroked and patted his hip soothingly.

"So beautiful, Dean," he murmured. "You're doing beautifully."

Cas's fingertip slid out, and the sounds of more lube told him why. Cas pressed back inside him, moving and wiggling a bit, urging his muscles to loosen. When he pushed his finger in deeper, Dean pressed his lips tightly together to prevent any noises escaping. He squeezed his eyes closed. The intrusion wasn't painful, but it was sort of uncomfortable, and it just felt weird as _hell_.

"Dean."

Dean's breath came in short, tight pants as the focus of his whole universe centered on that finger shoved up his ass. He became hyper aware of it and of every nerve in the area. A faint sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Dean." Cas's more urgent call brought him back to the room.

"Cas," he gasped, blinking his eyes open to focus on the wrinkles and rumples of the sheets beneath him.

"Are you all right? Do you want me to stop?" Concern sharpened Cas's voice.

For a second, Dean considered it. But he didn't want to chicken out now. Lots of people liked doing this – surely they weren't all crazy. "No, I'm okay. It's just...different. Give me a sec."

Cas waited, the fingers of his free hand still smoothing over Dean's hip. As he waited for his muscles to adjust, Dean turned his attention to the touch at his hip, letting the steady pressure calm him. After a bit, he felt much more at ease with the other, more intimate touch.

"I'm good. Go ahead and move, Cas. Just...lots of lube."

"Of course."

Cas started to move, sliding his finger gently in and out, working it around to spread the lube. Now that he was more used to it, Dean thought the friction inside him actually felt kind of good. Weird, but good.

After a while, there seemed to be less resistance to the movement of Cas's finger, so Dean said, "I think you can try adding a second one."

The single finger slid all the way out, and there came more lube sounds from behind him. Dean closed his eyes again and bit down on his lip, waiting for the new intrusion.

"Fuck," he gasped. Instead of fingers in his ass like he'd been expecting, there was a hand on his cock. He'd softened some when they'd started the prep – anxiety was balls for keeping an erection – but now Cas was palming him back to full, aching hardness.

"Be calm, Dean," Cas said softly. "Feel what I'm doing, but don't fear it. Relax."

Maybe Cas was using some kind of angel mojo, because Dean did relax. The smooth, hypnotic strokes on his dick felt fucking awesome, and he found he didn't mind at all when Cas gave him a second finger. The pressure increased, and he could feel his hole stretch around the probing, twisting fingers, and that felt pretty awesome, too.

Suddenly, a white burst of pleasure like he'd never felt before exploded through him. "Holy _fuck!_ What was that?"

Cas nudged again, and fireworks flared behind Dean's eyes and all through the thinking parts of his brain. "That's your prostate. It's good?"

"Oh, fucking hell yes! Oh my god, don't stop," Dean groaned. "Jesus H., no wonder this is a thing." He'd had his own curious fingers up there a time or two, but he'd apparently never ventured far enough to discover the magical goddamn wonderland of his own prostate. Holy mother of _shit_.

The gentle stretching and teasing turned into more forceful thrusting, with Cas's fingers gliding over his prostate every other stroke or so. Dean found himself driving his hips back to meet him every time.

When a third finger joined the party, he scrunched his eyes shut and whined, "Oh, holy shit, Cas. Oh, shit."

And then Cas found his prostate again, and Dean cried out wordlessly. It felt so good, so _fucking_ good.

"Be still, Dean. I don't want to hurt you," Cas urged.

But Dean was too lost in the blinding bliss. He writhed and moaned, rocking his hips back, trying to fuck himself deeper onto Cas's fingers. "Cas, please, _please_ -"

All at once, a pressure came down over his body, and he couldn't understand why he couldn't move anymore, couldn't chase the high.

"Dean, I said be still."

Wings. Oh, god, Cas was restraining his squirming with his fucking glorious wings. Oh, hell that was hot, so _fucking_ hot. God, he needed more, and right the fuck _now_. "Cas, please," he wheezed. "I'm ready, I'm so ready. Please, I need you to fuck me."

"Are you certain?" Cas slowed the movements of his hand, but didn't stop teasing his prostate.

Dean groaned and strained against the sleek, strong wings holding him down. "Fuck, Cas, please, yes!"

He whined his frustration when Cas didn't immediately fuck him. Instead, he drew his fingers out and released him, gently turning him over. Now sprawled on his back, Dean panted hoarsely and clutched at Cas, desperate for him to be closer, to touch him, to be _in_ him. "Caaaas..."

"I want to see you." Cas put his hands on Dean's knees. "Your face tells so many stories, Dean. All the words of your heart are there for me to see. I want to see you when we join this first time."

"Yes," Dean nodded frantically. "Please, Cas. I need you."

Cas reached for the bottle of lube one more time and slicked his cock as Dean watched. A little thrill of apprehension shivered through Dean as he realized just how much larger Cas's dick was than his fingers.

"I won't hurt you, Dean. Trust me," Cas murmured, and the fear melted away.

He pushed Dean's legs up until he was nearly folded double, Cas's hands at the backs of his thighs. He moved closer, kneeling between his legs, and his slick, jutting erection slid alongside Dean's balls.

"Oh, fuck," Dean whispered.

With one hand, Cas guided his cock to press against Dean's wet hole with slow and careful pressure. Dean hissed when the head breached his entrance. Cas paused, but Dean grunted, "It's good, keep going, keep going."

With little rocking pushes, Cas pressed forward. "Deeean," he groaned. "So tight...hot. Feels so...so good."

Dean's breath came in desperate gasps as he felt himself spread open to take Cas's cock. Fuck, it was big. Not like, _big_ -big, but definitely plenty big to be buried so deep in Dean's ass. God, he felt so _full_.

Once he was fully seated, Cas paused to let Dean adjust, for which he was hellaciously grateful, even though it was obvious from the quivering that Cas was struggling to wait for him. Before long, just like with the fingers, Dean got used to the sensation, and he was just left with the good feelings – the stretch, the fullness, the pressure on his rim.

"Okay," he breathed, giving Cas a nod.

Cas pulled out just a little, and Dean shuddered at the friction along his channel. When he pushed forward again, though, Dean couldn't help but cry out.

"Oh god, Cas!"

Slow and steady at first, Cas rocked into him, in and out and back again until all Dean could feel was that cock in his ass, moving, filling him up over and over and over. As Dean's throaty sounds got louder, Cas fucked him harder, faster.

"Dean- I can't-" Cas choked out.

But then, with his hands at the backs of Dean's thighs, Cas pushed his knees farther, tilting his hips up even more. The new angle put Cas's cock directly against Dean's magical fucking prostate with every thrust, dragging relentlessly over that freaking nuclear red button inside him.

"Oh, fuck! Cas, fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck!_ "

The cascading waves of pleasure that came with every stroke became almost painful, but he never wanted it to stop, not ever. Dean's mouth dropped open in a silent scream as he teetered wildly on the edge of orgasm. His eyes flew open to meet Cas's. His angel stared back with wide eyes glowing white and growing brighter.

" _Dean!_ " The broken cry came as Cas's blazing eyes fluttered shut, his face crumpled, and his hips twitched and faltered in their rhythm.

Cas's cock pulsed against his rim, and warmth flooded him deep inside, and Dean fell howling over the edge with him – his fists knotting tightly into the sheets beneath him as his untouched dick sent powerful bursts of come spilling over his chest. Thanks to the upward cant of his hips, some of it dribbled down to pool at the base of his throat.

A second shuddering wave of pleasure overtook him when he felt Cas's cock give one final pulse inside him. And just when he thought he was done, another wave came, but this one was more of a lapping-gently-at-the-beach kind of wave rather than the previous tsunamis.

Cas stayed nestled inside him, breathing just as hard as Dean until he softened enough to slip out. He dropped back on his heels, releasing his hold on Dean's legs. Cas's eyes were half-lidded and his brow shone with sweat. He swayed a little, but managed to stay upright way better than Dean could've at this point.

Wrapping his legs tightly around Cas's waist, Dean released his death grip on the sheets and reached to pull Cas down on top of him, ignoring the come squishing between them. The weight of his body was comforting rather than constricting, and as awesome as it was getting fucked senseless by his angel, all Dean wanted right now was to hold him. God, he was getting to be such a girl, but he couldn't bring himself to be bothered by it.

Cas nuzzled his skin, still breathing like he'd run an Olympic sprint. "That was wonderful. Let's do it again soon," he mumbled, sounding on the verge of unconscious.

"Hell, yeah," Dean agreed blearily, though he wasn't sure how soon he'd be comfortable subjecting his ass to another round of that. Nothing hurt, but he definitely did feel sort of strange down there...but maybe that was just the come starting to leak from inside him. Ew. "Cas? Would you, um...?" he waved a hand, indicating the jizz covering him.

"Mmph," was Cas's only reply, but just like that, the come was gone. Dean wiggled a little, testing things out, and he was pretty sure the come in his ass was gone, too. Everything seemed less squishy, anyway.

Dean tightened his arms around Cas. "You know that was more than just wonderful, right?" God, first cuddling after, now talking? Ugh. "You're fucking amazing."

Cas raised his head and smiled softly before leaning in to give Dean a lingering kiss. Feeling warm and sleepy and awesome, Dean looked up into the face of the angel he... yes, loved.

"Hey, Cas? I, uh- I need to tell you something."

Cas's signature head tilt prodded him to continue.

The butterflies from earlier awoke in his belly. "It's just... I..." Freaking stupid butterflies. Why was this so hard to say?

"What is it, Dean? Are you all right?"

Dean frowned and looked away. "Yeah, no, it's not anything bad. I just wanted you to know..." He swallowed hard. "I...love you."

Only silence followed, and all the butterflies started trying to claw their way up his throat again. But when he looked back, Cas was beaming at him.

"Dean," he finally said. "I know."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "Did... Did you just Han Solo me?"

"I don't believe I understand your question," Cas replied with an enigmatic smile.

Shaking his head, Dean chuckled, "Never mind, Cas. Never mind."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Uh, wow. It's been a long-ass time. Over a year (*embarrassed flinch*). Um. Sorry for being so slow? Does anyone even remember this story? Ah, what the hell – new chapter, woo! Sure hope it doesn't suck.**
> 
> **Disclaimer, in case you've forgotten: I don't own Supernatural. Still. Surprise!**

The first things he saw when he woke early the next morning were Cas's ridiculously bright eyes about two inches away, gazing at him as if he were made of rainbows and glitter farts. Dean's stomach did a squirrelly little flip-flop – he was actually waking up in bed with a naked angel. He might even be waking up every day with a naked angel. How awesome was that?

The two of them were curled together facing one another, their legs tangled impossibly together. Cas had his head pillowed on a bent arm, while the other was tucked between their chests, his fingers tracing the lines of Dean's tattoo so gently, he could barely feel it.

Without disturbing their cozy position too much, Dean stretched like a cat – one body part at a time – and yawned big enough that his jaw popped. He took mental stock of his ass as he moved. He still felt a little strange down there and was maybe a little tender, but overall everything seemed fine.

Settling back in, he blinked sleepily at Cas.

"Morning," he said, his voice all mangled from the early hour. And maybe the screaming hot sex.

Now that Dean was awake, Cas's fingers moved up to stroke the planes and curves of his face – temple, cheekbone, scruffy jawline. His thumb dragged across Dean's lower lip, and the morning wood Dean had been trying to ignore rared up to say hello, nudging Cas's belly.

"Good morning, Dean," Cas replied with a soft smile.

A sudden suspicion niggled at Dean's brain. "Did you...lay there all night and watch me sleep?"

Cas brushed his thumb over Dean's cheek, and his expression went all mooshy. "Yes."

"Dude..." Dean wouldn't have thought the intensity of Cas's staring could ramp up any higher, but somehow it did.

"You're beautiful when you sleep."

Last night's association of praise with pleasure had apparently stuck at least a little, and Dean flushed. He leaned forward, tightening his hold on Cas's waist and meeting his lips in a smoldering kiss. Before it went very far, though, he pulled back with a groan.

"Aw, dammit, Cas, that's not fair. How do you not have morning breath? Shit, I must taste disgusting."

"You don't taste in any way unpleasant to me. Though my vessel was human, I am not, which means I don't experience things the same way you do. For that same reason, I don't have morning breath or body odor or flatulence or-"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Dean interrupted with a chuckle before he got any more specific. "Quit your bragging. Humans are gross, and you're perfect, I know."

Cas frowned at him. "Being non-human just means I'm different, not perfect or in any way better. And humans aren't gross." He paused thoughtfully. "Well, not inherently so as a species. I'm sure there are individuals one might consider gross."

A thought occurred to Dean. "Hey, if you don't fart or anything, how is it you can come?"

"Technically, this body can do anything it did when it was Jimmy's. In practice, my grace maintains it, eliminating the need for food or sleep, or things like toothbrushes or showers."

"Show-off," Dean snorted. If his morning breath wasn't a turn off, though, he wasn't going to waste time worrying about it.

He leaned in to kiss Cas again, who responded enthusiastically with a warm tongue and nips over Dean's lips.

"As much as I enjoy watching you sleep, I'm pleased you're awake now," Cas murmured between kisses. "I've been thinking of many things I would like to try. Things I want to do to you."

Dean groaned wordlessly as all kinds of filthy things flashed through his mind.

Cas tongued his way down to Dean's throat and chest. "Would you like me to tell you what I plan to do to you right now?"

Dean nodded, then gasped as Cas latched onto his collarbone, sucking a hickey there that would surely rival the one from the other day. "Tell me, please."

With a hand at the back of his neck, Cas lifted Dean up off the bed far enough to wedge both pillows behind him. Dean didn't see where they came from, but by the time he'd leaned back down into the pillows, Cas had several strips of fabric in his hand. As Cas tied one around his wrist, Dean realized it was his own tie from his F.B.I. get-up, and before he knew it, his right arm was secured to one of the bedposts. Dean gaped up at him in surprise.

Hot damn, Cas was tying him down.

Cas straddled his body as he attached Dean's left wrist firmly to the other bedpost with Sam's tie. His eyes burned as he watched Dean, and a slightly predatory smile touched his lips.

"I intend to experiment – to take pleasure from you in any way I see fit."

A strangled sound forced its way out of Dean's throat.

The smile on Cas's face quirked a tiny bit wider as he held up a third tie – the familiar blue one that usually sat lopsided around his own neck. "Close your eyes."

Dean's mouth hung open for just a moment before he snapped his jaw shut and closed his eyes as directed. Cas tied the silky fabric in place and leaned in to murmur into Dean's ear. "Any time you wish me to stop, say so. Understand?"

"Yeah."

The mattress shifted beneath Dean as Cas moved around, tying both his ankles as well. "You'll be restrained, but you're free to make as much noise as you want."

Dean pulled against the restraints, testing them, but he was pretty sure he'd have to wait for Cas to untie him before he'd be going anywhere. A nervous excitement crawled through his belly as he waited to find out what was in store for him.

Fingers trailed up his side and scratched lightly across his chest. A long sweep of feathers brushed over his thighs, a now-familiar feeling. The swirl of air from the movement of Cas's wing teased his half-hard cock with the barest imitation of touch. Dean whined and squirmed but had nowhere to go and no way to find any friction.

"I'm grateful to you, Dean, for your patience and guidance. You've been generous to me. My sexual inexperience must be somewhat frustrating to you," Cas began. Dean shook his head, but Cas continued before he could interrupt. "But now I intend to take what I want from you."

Heat flooded Dean's face. The touches over his body increased in number and pressure until he couldn't tell what was touching him where. It all turned into a swirl of sensation that got all the more dizzying for his being blindfolded.

The bed dipped as Cas straddled Dean's waist once again. "You like being restrained and controlled, so I'm going to use you how I want for as long as I want, because you're mine, Dean Winchester. I claim you. You belong to me, as I belong to you."

Dean whimpered and pulled against the ties, straining uselessly toward the angel above him. "Cas..."

He felt Cas's inner thighs brush along his ribs as he inched farther up Dean's body. A soft touch at his mouth startled him. Cas's thumb traced back and forth along his lower lip as he continued speaking. "Do you know I've loved you since the moment I wove your wounded soul back together? I love your fierceness and your gentle heart."

The thumb at his lip pressed harder. "And I love your mouth – so full and beautiful, it makes me want things I'm not certain I fully understand."

Cas pushed his thumb into Dean's mouth, hooked it over his teeth, and gently pried his mouth open. He drew the digit out just enough to spread saliva over his lower lip. His voice turned dark as he growled, "And I want to use it."

Dean's cheeks burned. The thought of Cas treating him like a freaking sex doll was weirdly humiliating but hot as hell, too. He nodded desperately and moaned his assent since he couldn't talk with his mouth forced open like that.

Suddenly, it was Cas's cock instead of his thumb pushing into his mouth, all tang and musk. A hand curled around the back of his head, guiding him deeper onto Cas's dick, but not so deep that it cut off his air or made him gag.

"Since you will be unable to speak for some time, if you wish me to stop, snap your fingers. Do you understand?"

"Nnn-hnn." Dean nodded as much as the cock in his mouth would allow.

Cas began to move gently, his dick sliding over Dean's tongue. "So beautiful, Dean. Seeing you like this, submitting to me so completely – it affects me more than I could have believed. You're perfect."

A warm thrill went through Dean at the praise.

"Do you want more?"

A muffled groan was the best 'yes' Dean could manage. As Cas's hips sped up their rocking motion and his dick swelled to full hardness, Dean did his best to relax his throat. Tears collected at the corners of his eyes, but he still worked his tongue and provided as much suction as he could. He wanted nothing more than to be what Cas wanted, to be perfect for him.

"Deeean," Cas crooned as he moved. "My Dean."

He thrust harder and faster, stuffing himself into Dean's mouth, causing all kinds of un-sexy noises and trails of saliva to dribble down his chin. But any self-consciousness Dean might have felt was overshadowed by the low groans and words of praise coming from the angel above him.

The groans abruptly raised in pitch, and the fingers gripping the back of Dean's head tightened. Certain he was about to get a throat full of come, Dean got ready to swallow, but was surprised when Cas pulled out completely.

"No," Cas said in a growl that made Dean's cock throb. "I haven't finished with you yet."

Moving back to sit over Dean's waist again, Cas wiped the spit from his chin, then leaned down to kiss him, his tongue delving deep.

"Mmm. I can taste myself," Cas murmured between kisses. "I like that. You should taste like me at all times."

Dean whimpered. Bizarre fantasies flashed through his brain like aphrodisiac lightning. _Cas coming in his mouth at every filthy gas station bathroom in America. Cas bending him over a couch to fuck him while he conducted a fake F.B.I. interview. Cas demanding he use come instead of toothpaste to ensure he tasted like him at all times._

Okay, maybe not the last one.

More kisses followed as Cas leisurely made his way down Dean's throat and across his chest. "I thought about you all night – how you looked while I penetrated you, how you begged, how consumed you were by the pleasure I gave you."

Cas crawled farther down, straddling the tops of Dean's thighs, pinning his already immobilized legs firmly to the bed. The sudden snap of the cap of the lube bottle should have given Dean some warning, but he still jumped when a cool, slick hand wrapped around his dick and began to pump.

Cas's voice rumbled from somewhere above him. "Watching you lose control – watching you while I _make_ you lose control – is extremely arousing."

He started jacking Dean off in earnest then, making fiery tendrils wind up his insides. Dean groaned as the tension in his balls built.

"And while... _fucking_ you was a joy I hope to repeat often-"

"Yes, yes, yes," Dean muttered between moans as Cas kept talking.

"-I found myself curious about your experience. Especially your response to stimulation of your prostate."

Dean strained against his bindings and thrashed his head, getting more desperate to come with every stroke. "Cas, please..."

"Dean," Cas said sharply. "Are you listening?"

"Yeah, I'm listening," Dean insisted, though he was way more focused on the hand on his dick.

"Then you know what I'm about to do."

Dean hesitated. He was pretty sure he'd heard everything Cas had said, but wasn't putting it all together. "Um..."

He felt the air pressure change as Cas leaned down close to his ear. "I'm going to fuck myself on your cock until I'm thoroughly satisfied I've taken every bit of pleasure from you that I can."

Oh, Jesus H., when had Cas learned to talk like that?

"And you should know, Dean, as I'm touching you right now, I'm also opening my vessel with my fingers. It's not strictly necessary, of course, but you certainly seemed to enjoy it last night." Cas's words came out a little breathy and stilted, and Dean desperately wished he could see the angel kneeling above him, panting as he thrust his fingers into his own ass.

With a whine, Dean begged, "Please take off the blindfold? I want to see you. Oh, god, I _need_ to see you. Please."

"No, Dean," Cas said firmly. "I'm using you for my own pleasure. Any that you receive is incidental."

"Cas..."

"I said no. You will do as you're told, and _only_ as you're told. Understand?"

Dean squirmed in his restraints, his cheeks on fire. "Yes."

The mattress dipped and shifted again as Cas moved up a little and gripped him firmly. Dean bit the inside of his cheek in anticipation, then gasped as his cock breached Cas's rim. Fireworks burst behind his covered eyes.

"Fuck, Cas!" He sucked more air as Cas lowered himself down, enveloping him in perfection. Hot, slick, oh-goddamn-that-was- _tight_ perfection. "Oh, holy fucking fuck."

Breathing heavily, Cas paused once he was fully seated. "Mmm, Dean, this is... this is so..." He trailed off into muttered Enochian after that.

Agonizingly slowly, Cas raised himself up on Dean's cock and lowered himself once again. Both of them groaned at the glorious friction. Cas continued moving – much more slowly than Dean would have liked – searching for the angle he needed. When he found it, he shuddered and cried out, making Dean wish all the harder that he could see.

Then he heard the unmistakable sound of Cas jacking his own cock as he fucked himself on Dean's at a furious pace. The growled flow of Enochian on its own was insanely hot, but added to the images the smacks and slaps evoked in his head, it nearly drove Dean into a frenzy. He tried like hell to thrust himself up harder into Cas's body, but fingers digging into his side were enough of a reprimand that he stopped, left instead to jostle and jerk against his bindings, at the mercy of Cas's dogged pounding.

The Enochian switched harshly back to English. "Tell me you're mine, Dean. Tell me now!"

"God, yes! Completely yours!" Dean cried. "I fuckin' love you, Cas."

A choked off howl came from above him, and Dean felt Cas's muscles clamp down on him in the most spectacular way. The squeezing pressure on his cock and the warm spill of come splashing onto his belly sent Dean right over into orgasm, coming deep inside Cas's body, claiming the angel as his, too, in his own way.

"Dean, Dean, my Dean," Cas intoned softly as he came down from his high, sounding almost as if he were meditating or casting a spell. " _Dean_."

As Cas more or less collapsed down onto him, Dean blindly kissed and nuzzled whatever he could reach and let the warm tinglies of angel afterglow tickle his hyper-sensitive skin. "Love you," he mumbled. "Love you, Cas."

And suddenly Cas was up again, holding the sides of Dean's face and kissing him possessively. After a thorough plundering of his mouth, Cas untied the blindfold and eased it away. Dean blinked furiously, trying fruitlessly to clear his vision. In spite of the lingering blur, there was no mistaking the joy in the brilliant blue eyes in front of him.

Taking his face in his hands more gently this time, Cas kissed Dean on the forehead. "I love you, too."

Dean's insides positively glowed at that. He was totally going to have to see a gynecologist about it, because he was clearly turning into a girl, but goddamn, it made him stupidly happy to hear Cas say it.

It still didn't seem possible, but it was true.

Cas loved him.


End file.
